The King and His Lionheart
by NonyMouse
Summary: Arthur doesn't die, but instead gets a chance to build a truly egalitarian Camelot where magic is free and Merlin is properly rewarded for his unending faithfulness. It'll be a long road there, but Arthur is much wiser now, and perhaps he can even save a few people who fate abandoned, along the way.
1. A New Beginning

**AN: **I actually really liked the last episode of Merlin. I thought it was beautifully done, and I always knew the show had to end with Arthur dying, because his legend is already written, and while they could change things like Merlin's age and the keeping of his magic a secret, they couldn't change something as fundamental to the story as Arthur's death. Arthur's slow acceptance of who Merlin is and all that he's done for Camelot as they traveled was beautiful, and his "thank you" to Merlin before he died made me cry.

What I didn't like was Mordred's story, or the fact that magic never actually became free under Arthur's rule. It felt like the only thing Arthur and Merlin actually accomplished together was to get the same sort of peace that Uther had. In other words, they fought off some major enemies, but Arthur still put magic users to death, and Merlin made increasingly terrible decisions on the road to Arthur's end. It was terribly frustrating. I didn't get the sense at all that Arthur had achieved a Camelot worthy of the legends it became. So, I decided to give Arthur another chance to make things better. The full extent of his second chance will become more clear as the story progresses.

* * *

Arthur could feel his last strength fading as Merlin tried to drag him the last few miles to the lake. He knew they would not make it, in spite of the muttered, desperate assurances of his loyal sorcerer. Even if the horses had not run off, Arthur would not last much longer, and the lake was still far away. Besides, even if they made it, they had no assurance that the Sidhe would help. Those creatures bore no love for Pendragons. When one of them stumbled, Arthur knew not which of them it was, and they fell over, Arthur knew he would not get up again. He could hardly feel his legs anymore, let alone walk on them. Still, his manservant was still speaking, still trying to evade the inevitable.

"Just… just… just hold me," Arthur said, each word a struggle. He patted Merlin's hand where it held him tightly around the middle, supporting him as Merlin had always supported him. With what little strength he had left, he turned to face Merlin. Fleetingly, he wished that he could be in Gwen's arms for his last moments, but that thought passed. It seemed far more right that he would die here, in the arms of the one man who had never given up faith in him and had, it turned out, given everything he was just to see Arthur succeed. "There's something I want to say."

Merlin glared at him. "You're not going to say goodbye." So typical. Even when Arthur was on the very brink of death, Merlin still tried to tell him what to do.

"No." Arthur took a deep breath. He had to say this before he lost the strength. "Everything you've done… I know now…for me… for Camelot. I want to say," he was choking now, could barely get the words out, but he was determined to say this last bit, "something I've never said to you before." He reached his hand up behind Merlin's head, making sure his dearest friend was looking right into his eyes, hoping that Merlin could see how truly he meant these words. "Thank you."

With that, Arthur let his head fall back and his eyes fall closed. The darkness was creeping towards him now, promising warmth and peace. Distantly, he heard something like roaring coming from Merlin's mouth, but perhaps that was just the sound of death in his ears. He had not quite faded fully, however, when he felt the ground tremble a few minutes later as something huge landed next to them. Dim awareness of being dragged onto a great figure seeped through the grey haze around his mind, and a moment later he felt as though he were hurtling swiftly through the air far above the ground. He wondered if his dying moments were bringing him fever dreams, because he could have sworn he was riding a dragon. An image of a white dragon, commanded by the sorcerer (by _Merlin_) on the hill during the battle, came into his mind. The dragon beneath him seemed bigger though, and somehow far more ancient.

He must have slipped entirely out of consciousness, because the next thing he knew, Merlin was holding him up, screaming at the beast in front of them, and there was pain in his voice. The words, "I cannot lose him! He is my friend!" filtered down to him as though from far away. "Don't worry my friend," he wanted to say, though his voice seemed not to work. "I am looking forward to some peace." That was the last he knew, before everything went black.

* * *

The next thing Arthur knew, he was blinking into early morning sunlight as Merlin moved about his chambers in Camelot, preparing his things for a new day as though nothing had happened. 'We must have made it to the Sidhe after all,' Arthur thought, marveling at the lack of pain in his side. Why, he felt stronger than he had in ages. Even his ever-present bone-deep weariness from the past year was gone. He closed his eyes again and breathed deep, pleased when he felt no remaining twinges of pain beneath his ribs. He wondered how long he had been out. It had likely been at least a few days; Gwen had been nowhere to be seen, and he knew that she would not have left his side once he was returned to the castle, until royal duty forced her away.

"Time to get up, Sleepyhead!" Merlin's cheerful voice broke through Arthur's reverie, and he opened his eyes to see Merlin's beaming face above his own. The servant-sorcerer bounded away as soon as he saw that Arthur was awake. "I've brought you your breakfast, polished your armor, and gotten you up at a decent hour today."

Arthur was bemused at Merlin's behavior. "I'm glad you're in such a cheerful mood," he said, genuine affection lacing his voice. He could not remember the last time Merlin had seemed this carefree.

Merlin paused in his leaping about to stare at Arthur. The King couldn't be sure, but he thought it was surprise that lit his friend's eyes. Those eyes were quickly shuttered, though, as Merlin flashed him a cheeky grin and replied, "I didn't realize his Royal Prattiness cared about his lowly servant's moods! Anyways, your breakfast is on the table along with all you important papers for today. I'll be back later after I've got some water for Gaius from the well."

With that, Merlin exited the room, leaving a befuddled Arthur in his wake. Something strange was going on. Merlin had not stuck around to answer a single question, in spite of the fact that he must know Arthur would be anxious for news of his kingdom, and especially of his wife. He hoped Guinevere had done alright while he was ill.

They also needed to properly discuss Merlin's magic. Now that they were back in Camelot, he could only guess that Merlin had gone back to hiding. Lifting the ban on magic was clearly something Arthur should have done long ago, something that could, perhaps, have saved countless people so much unjust heartache, but he could remedy that now. At least, he could remedy that once he knew how everything else was going, which would happen faster if his manservant wouldn't run out on him.

Shaking his head in fond annoyance, Arthur finally took the chance to really look around his room. Sunlight streamed through the open window near his bed, illuminating the room. On a table near the door lay a steaming plate of food next to a goblet, with several papers lying near. Overall, there was something strange about the room. Several of his things were not in the right places, but there was something bigger than that that he could not quite put his finger on. It was several more moments before he realized what was so disorienting.

None of Guinevere's things were in the room. Her beautiful oak wardrobe, which had stood beside his ever since their wedding day several years ago, was missing, as were the slippers that often sat beside her side of the bed during the day. He knelt down and checked under the bed, just in case, but they were not there either. None of the little touches that his queen had added to their rooms remained, either, from the small vases of flowers she liked to have around, to the embroidered curtains she had replaced his more utilitarian ones with shortly after they married.

Suddenly, the room seemed less homey and welcoming, and more suspicious and suffocating. He felt like he had woken unwittingly in the midst of some strange trap.

He knew that Gwen had to be okay. Merlin would not have been in such a good mood if something had happened to the Queen. He couldn't see Gwen moving into another room, either. Surely, she would have wanted to stay near him whenever she could.

Perhaps he had needed space to heal properly? The excuse sounded weak to his own ears.

Even the sunlight glancing off the hard stone walls seemed treacherous as Arthur made his way slowly towards his table. It was not the same table he had used the past few years, he realized, the old oak monstrosity he had taken from his father's room when he took the crown. Instead, it reminded him more of the table he had once used years ago, when he was but a prince. Nothing about this was right.

Something was dreadfully wrong. Merlin had been so cheerful earlier, implying that things were well in Camelot, but what if it was some sort of plot? It couldn't be a plot from Merlin, though. He _knew _without a doubt that Merlin was his friend and probably the most loyal man he had ever encountered. His doubts about Merlin had been completely turned to unfettered trust by the end of their journey to Avalon. There was no way that the man who had given so much and asked for so little in return, just to help Arthur, was plotting something evil.

He spun towards the door at the sound of hurried steps in the corridor.

This was not right! The memory of Merlin before he left the room rose in Arthur's mind. Now that he gave it more thought, that had not been right, either. Merlin had looked ever so slightly _off._

The footsteps drew closer to the door, and Arthur looked around frantically for some weapon. He cursed his lack of sword. Its weight was conspicuously absent from his side, and now even that seemed sinister.

At the last moment, he grabbed the goblet from the table, spilling its contents all over the floor and holding it out in front of him like a shield.

Merlin rounded the door and skidded to a stop, staring in clear surprise at Arthur, standing still in his nightclothes in the middle of his room with a goblet in hand and a puddle of wine around his feet. Arthur dropped the goblet in shock, finally understanding why everything was so wrong, but it was impossible.

Merlin was _younger._

* * *

Far away, in a dark cave beneath the earth, Nimueh slammed another book shut with a growl. Something had caused a great explosion of magic in Camelot, and none of her ancient knowledge gave her a clue as to what it was. In this last book, she had finally come across something that may hold the key.

There were druidic prophecies tied to Arthur, the Once and Future King, but they also spoke of one named Emrys, Immortal in the druidic language, who would stand beside Arthur and help him achieve everything the prophecies foretold. She had suspected for a while now that Arthur's young manservant had far more powerful magic than anyone guessed, though she had still thought herself more than a worthy match for the boy. If he was this Emrys, than it was likely that he was responsible for whatever she had sensed. Whatever he had done, she must find out. This new development threw a kink in her plans that she had no idea what to do with. She was not used to being taken by surprise.

* * *

Even farther away, beyond Ealdor in Cenred's kingdom, Morgause sat deep in thought in Cenred's library. The burst of magic she had felt this morning was beyond anything she had experienced in many years. It was as ancient a feeling as the Old Religion itself. Cenred's books had been of no help to her, but she had finally made up her mind on a course of action. She would have to put her plans in motion earlier than expected, before the cause of that magical blast did something to ruin them entirely.

A part of her wondered if her sister had been the cause, though such power was far beyond anything Morgause had ever hoped for Morgana. That would be a fair boon, if Morgana was so powerful, though it would also put that foul excuse for a king, Uther, onto her scent sooner than she hoped. "I am coming for you, sister," she said, her whisper swallowed into the dark, dusty books around her. "If that was you, then you shall be greater than even I had imagined, and someday you will be the ruler of Camelot and teach those _Pendragons_ the meaning of fear and magic!"


	2. Lost and Found

For once since he had become Arthur's manservant, Merlin had found himself awake on time, even a little bit early. The young Warlock had been dreaming of a day off and the Prince saving him for once, when he had been jolted into wakefulness by a feeling unlike anything he had ever encountered before. The very air had seemed to convulse momentarily, and the balance of the world shifted. All of this had passed in an instant, however. If not for the faint crackling feeling that remained in the air for nearly an hour afterwards, just tickling the edges of his magic, he might have thought he imagined the sensation.

The feeling left him wide awake, though, so he decided that for once, he would surprise Prince Prat by being on time with all of him morning chores. Eventually, he would sort out the feeling, but for now the city seemed to be still standing just fine.

Merlin had had enough of evil sorceresses, magical beasts, and walking dead men to last a life time. He did care about the Prince now; the man had shown himself several times over to be worthy of the Destiny that the Great Dragon claimed he had. Still, he made it an awfully difficult job sometimes to protect him. Ever since coming to Camelot, it seemed as though Merlin's entire life was split between acting like an idiot manservant, helping Gaius, and keeping the Prince alive. It was an exhausting life. Really, the Prince could hardly blame Merlin for sleeping in so much.

Polishing the Prince's armor and ensuring that all of his weapons were clean and sharp took nearly an hour, but by the time he was finished, dawn had only just begun to lighten the late autumn sky. Thankfully, the itchy feeling from _whatever_ it was that had woken him had also begun to die down. He had nearly stabbed himself with Arthur's sword when the itchiness caused him to sneeze while sharpening it.

Several other early rising servants greeted him as he walked through the castle to get Arthur his breakfast. He passed Gwen on the ground floor, and they talked briefly.

"I'm surprised to see you up so early without an emergency," she had said teasingly.

Merlin had teased back, saying with mock hurt, "Are you implying that I am anything other than a timely servant most days, Guinevere?" She giggled at him, and he smiled. She was a good friend to have, and he always enjoyed making her happy, since she had helped him so much when he first arrived in Camelot and been his first friend. After a few more friendly words, the two parted ways on their respective duties.

He laughed to himself when the Cook in the kitchen was surprised to see him up so early, and he had to wait an extra minute for the Prince's breakfast to be prepared. The kitchen staff had become used to Merlin's perpetual lateness.

When he reached Arthur's room, he was quite unsurprised to find the Prince still fast asleep. Even when he jerked open the curtains, the Prince did little besides snort and turn his head away from the early morning light. Honestly, he didn't know why Arthur complained about him being late all the time. The Prince loved extra time to sleep.

As he went about his duties, Merlin found himself thinking back to the burst of magic that had awoken him. As much as he was tired of things attacking Camelot and hoped it was just some weird fluke that meant nothing, he knew he could not ignore the matter. If it posed a threat to Arthur, he would have to find out what it meant and eradicate it. It seemed he may have to pay Kilgharrah a visit later, if nothing presented itself throughout the day.

Strangely, he felt as though the magic was not evil. He could not say how or why he felt that way, but he did. Though he had not realized it at the time, the tickling, itchy sensation from earlier had not been at all malicious. Instead, it was almost as though the magic had been teasing him as it faded, feeding into his cheery mood.

He shook his head. He would still look into it later, just in case.

Once everything was prepared for the day, with Arthur's clothes laid out, his food on the table, and all relevant papers on the goings on in the Kingdom next to his breakfast, Merlin moved over to Arthur's bed. The lazy Prince was still lying fast asleep in the same position he had been in when Merlin entered the room. Grinning, Merlin had an idea to wake the Royal Prat in a way he wouldn't forget soon. Putting his face right up in front of Arthur's, he yelled, "Time to get up, Sleepyhead!"

To his disappointment, Arthur did not seem at all surprised, annoyed, or even discomfited to find Merlin's face right over his own. He simply blinked at Merlin, who sighed internally. The Prat couldn't even react appropriately to a prank.

Merlin bounded away, salvaging his dignity by prattling off a list of everything he had accomplished already that morning. Rather than react with surprised disbelief, so that Merlin could protest and act wounded to cover up his own friendly insults in the manner of their usual banter, Arthur merely seemed bemused by Merlin's cheerful demeanor. He wondered if there was something wrong with the Prince, but that did not seem quite right. Arthur looked well enough. Besides, he wasn't acting _that_ oddly. He was probably just still tired.

He rattled off a half-hearted rejoinder, and then made an excuse to head out. Gaius needed some more herbs collected from the forest, and at some point Merlin would have to look into that magic from earlier, even if he still didn't really have any sort of bad feeling about it. Before Arthur could give him a list of more chores to complete since he had finished his earlier ones, Merlin darted out of the room. Once he was a bit away, he slowed his pace and practically skipped the rest of the way out of the castle. This day was shaping up to be a quite good one.

Unfortunately, Merlin's good mood was dashed as he was walking through the courtyard outside the castle. He was passing the well when a woman entered the gates of Camelot, and he gasped. The woman was his mother, Hunith, and she had a nasty bruise on her face.

"Mother?" Merlin asked, and she turned to his voice.

"Merlin!" she cried, running into his arms. Merlin could not enjoy the sight of his mother when she was bruised and clearly shaken by something.

"What happened? Who did this to you?" He was desperate to find out who had harmed his mother. She was the only family he had, and he hated to see her in pain.

Hunith, for her part, was a strong woman, and it showed in her voice as she spoke to her son. "It was a bandit by the name of Kanen," she said, spitting the name. "He and his men have been attacking Ealdor and taking our food. He will not let us keep even the bare minimum to get through the winter, so I have come to beg assistance from King Uther."

"But Ealdor is in Cenred's lands," Merlin said in confusion. His mother glared back at the gates, looking beyond them to her home and its ruler.

"Cenred would not aid us. We asked, but he cares little for the outlying villages at the edge of his realm. I am hoping to find a bit more sympathy from Uther." Hunith sighed. She knew the difficulty of her task, but she had to try for the sake of her people.

Tamping down his anger for the moment, Merlin grinned. "Luckily," he said, "I happen to be on pretty good terms with the Crown Prince. I'm sure Arthur will help you get an audience with Uther, and speak for your cause if I ask him to."

Hunith embraced her son, thanking him. "Don't thank me just yet," he said, though he smiled hopefully to soften his words. Now, let's get you to Gaius to see to that bruise while I talk to Arthur." She nodded, and he led her into the castle. He had completely forgotten about the magic from that morning. His mother was more important than some strange feeling.

Once Merlin had dropped his mother off with Gaius, he practically ran back down the corridors to Arthur's room. The man could be a right prat at times, but he had a good heart. There was no way he would refuse to help Merlin's mother. No, the one he really had to worry about was Uther. Still, Uther listened to his son, sometimes, and surely Arthur would manage to convince his father to send at least a few men to Ealdor. Merlin had to have hope for the place of his birth.

He rounded a final corner and skidded into Arthur's chambers, pulled up short at the sight that met him.

Arthur stood in the center of the room, still in his nightclothes, his breakfast untouched, and a puddle of wine around his feet. In his hands, held out in a defensive stance, he clutched the goblet that had previously housed the wine. Upon seeing Merlin, he dropped the goblet with a loud crash. The noise shook Merlin out of his shock, and he grinned uncertainly.

"I always knew you were useless at dressing yourself without me, but I didn't know you couldn't even eat properly without me around," Merlin teased. Arthur continued to stare at him. "Arthur?" he tried. Still, the Prince stood silent and wide-eyed as though struck dumb by magic. "Are you alright, Arthur?" Merlin began glancing surreptitiously around the room, hoping he wouldn't have to use magic right in front of Arthur, but willing to do so if there was something threatening his Prince.

Arthur visibly shook himself. "Of course I'm alright," he finally said, though he sounded anything but. "I was just startled when you appeared so suddenly." There was a strange lilt to Arthur's tone that clearly said he was hiding something. For the moment, Merlin decided to play along.

"Right," he said, unable to keep all the doubt out of his voice. "Well, in that case, I was wondering if you could help me get an audience with your father for my mother. My village is being attacked by bandits, and she has come to ask for assistance from him."

Once more, Arthur stared at him for several moments, speechless. "My father?" he finally said, confusion coloring the words. Now Merlin was seriously beginning to worry.

"Yes, your father," he said slowly. "You know, the King?" Arthur blinked again, and stared around the room for several more minutes.

Merlin began to grow a bit frustrated. He could see nothing amiss in the room besides Arthur, and every moment Arthur delayed for his strange fit was another moment lost that he could have used to help his mother.

"Look, Arthur," he said, growing a bit desperate, "I don't know what's wrong with you, but my mother needs an audience with your father. There's a bandit group attacking Ealdor and taking all their food, and she needs help! Please, help her for me." He rarely begged, but for his mother he would get on his knees in front of Arthur, if it helped.

Arthur's eyes lit up strangely, and he frowned but remained silent. Merlin was about to turn and go back to Gaius to see if _he_ could perhaps convince the King to give his mother an audience, when Arthur finally spoke.

"What was the name of the bandit leading the attack?" Arthur asked.

Merlin frowned at the Prince. He had no idea what this had to do with anything. So far as he knew, Arthur was not exactly on first name basis with any roving bandit groups on the border of Cenred's land and Camelot. Still, he dug through his memory to find the name his mother had given him outside the castle. "Kanen, I think," he finally said. "Are you going to help?"

Arthur stared at him for a few more long moments before nodding his head. "Give me a moment to get dressed in something more appropriate, and I will see what I can do."

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. He entered fully into Arthur's room, going to his wardrobe and picking out a tunic and leggings for the Prince to wear in front of his father. Arthur remained strangely quiet and contemplative as Merlin dressed him. It was unusual, in keeping with the strange behavior all morning, and Merlin let his magic drift out towards the Prince in soft tendrils. It was not quite a spell, but rather a way of broadening his senses to detect any traces of magic that may be on the Prince. Most magic left an aftertaste of sorts on Merlin's magical senses, but there was nothing on Arthur. On any other day, Merlin would not have given up so easily, but his mother outweighed whatever destiny he may have in Camelot.

The two left to find Uther as soon as Arthur was dressed.

* * *

When Merlin entered his room, Arthur barely had time to grasp what he was seeing before his manservant began speaking.

Confused thoughts and emotions crashed through him, and he briefly wondered if he had gone mad. Merlin could not be younger; that made no sense. Yet there he was, looking younger and more carefree than he had in years, his eyes undarkened by the deep shadows that begun gathering in them before even Morgana made her first attempt on the throne.

In recent years, those shadows had been a constant part of Merlin, as much a part of him as his sunny demeanor and innocent banter had once been.

He tried to respond somewhat normally to the banter that was currently spouting from his manservant's mouth, but he had a feeling that he failed miserably.

Then Merlin started saying things that made even less sense than his de-aged appearance. Arthur's father had died years ago. What Merlin said was impossible. He dimly noted himself speaking, asking for clarification that Merlin gave with an odd look. His father couldn't be alive; there must be some mistake. Arthur was the King of Camelot, and the only other ruler was his Queen, Guinevere.

He looked around the room again, once more noticing the lack of Gwen's presence in every corner of the room. It was as though she had been erased from his chambers, though if what Merlin said was true (though it _couldn't be_, death brought darkness and healing brought respite from pain; _neither_ brought a trip into the _past_), then she would not live with him yet, they would not be married yet.

He did not want to think of what that meant.

Merlin was still speaking, begging now. He sounded desperate for Arthur to listen, and angry that Arthur did not listen.

Finally, a vague memory from long ago began to surface in Arthur's mind. He remembered, as though from a dream, a day years past when Merlin had come to his King, then his Prince, begging an audience for his mother with the King, Uther, to protect her far off village from bandits.

"What was the name of the bandit leading the attack?" Arthur asked, already knowing the answer. Indeed, when Merlin told him several moments later, though Arthur knew not how, it was the same name of the man whom Arthur himself had killed once upon a time, when he went with his ever loyal manservant to help the man save his own home for once, instead of the other way around. Questions swirled through his mind as he spoke absently to Merlin, agreeing to help with a situation that should already be long past and settled. Something very, very strange was going on.

* * *

The audience with King Uther went about as well as he remembered. Aside from the fact that Arthur had nearly cried several times upon seeing his father (_so alive_), and the strange looks that Uther had sent his way throughout the conversation and subsequent audience, things deviated little from his recollection of events.

As Hunith was led from the room, despondent in her defeat, Arthur turned to look out a window. The memory of this day was returning more and more. He remembered saying something trite to Merlin from this position the last time, in an attempt to be comforting, or perhaps out of frustration.

"Thank you for trying," Merlin said, coming up beside Arthur and beating him to speech.

"I know how important she is to you," Arthur said in response. He remembered what was coming, expecting it even as Merlin proclaimed his intentions to return to Ealdor with his mother.

"Of course you are," he said, but Merlin cut him off before he could go further.

"It's been an honor serving you." Arthur turned to Merlin in surprise. Had Merlin really intended not to return? He did not remember that part. He was eternally grateful that he had not let the man run off alone the first time around.

"It had better continue being an honor," Arthur said with a mock glare, "because I'm coming with you."

Merlin gaped at him, and Arthur had to hold back a sigh. "My father cannot send troops to Ealdor without risking a war, but it will not be a risk for you to return with a friend. Besides, your villagers will need someone to teach them how to fight." Arthur well remembered how pathetically untrained the villagers had been with swords. Morgana, even if she had not yet turned to madness and evil, would not be able to help nearly as much as Arthur, for all her spirit and passion. He also had to admit that a significant part of him was excited at the prospect of getting to spend some time nearly alone with Guinevere. She had not thought very highly of him at this point in his life, but he would be sure to change that, even if he still did not quite understand what was going on.

Turning from the window, Arthur had gone several paces before he realized that Merlin was not beside him. The young man still stood where Arthur left him, staring after the Prince. Arthur raised an eyebrow, saying in annoyance, "What?"

Merlin raised his own eyebrows in return. "Did you bump your head this morning, Sire?" he asked. At Arthur's confused expression, he elaborated. "Only, you were acting weird this morning and now you've admitted, out loud, that we're friends. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were possessed." Merlin grinned mockingly at him.

Arthur snorted. Merlin would know all about possession.

He nearly tripped as that thought brought him up short. Merlin had magic, and this was clearly a magical problem.

"Sire?" Merlin asked, finally coming up beside him.

Arthur nearly spilled everything right there, in the door to the throne room, but he held back.

This may be Merlin, but it was not _his_ Merlin. If this really was time travel, then this was a much younger Merlin. Arthur felt strange thinking about it. They were the same person, older and younger Merlin, but at the same time they weren't the same person at all. This Merlin had never confessed to him in a forest as Arthur died, crying because he could not stand that he had lied for so long to his friend, begging Arthur's forgiveness for not telling the King sooner of the magic he used to save Camelot countless times over. This Merlin had not faced Morgana and finally killed her as she stood over Arthur, gloating in her madness over his imminent death. This Merlin had not held him as he died, screaming his pain to a dragon (an impossible dragon that should have been dead, but was instead one more secret). No, this was not his Merlin.

As the silence dragged on and Merlin watched him, he finally, grinned back at his servant, trying to hide the brittleness in the expression. "I'm fine, _Mer_lin. Let's go get ready for our trip."


	3. Questions and Conversations

**AN:** I took some lines directly from episode 1x10. Since this chapter follows that episode, I had the other characters say their original dialogue in parts, though some of the dialogue was changed to fit Arthur's different reactions.

I love hearing what people are thinking of this story, so if you have any thoughts or comments, please review and let me know! Even if you think someone is wildly out of character, or you notice I got some aspect of the setting wrong or something. Constructive criticism is just as welcome as letting me know you liked it. On the other hand, if you do like it, let me know why so I'm know what I'm doing right! Even if you don't review, though, I still hope you enjoy reading. So, I'll stop rambling on now and get on with it!

* * *

Soft, silver moonlight filtered through the fall-dulled leaves of the forest as the small group from Camelot rode towards Ealdor. Morgana had taken the lead with Hunith, and the two laughed and talked as the horses picked their way over the leaf-strewn ground. At the back of the group, Merlin rode next to Gwen in silence. Between the two groups, alone with his thoughts, rode Arthur.

He stared at Morgana's back as Hunith laughed brightly at something the witch said.

Unlike the fraying black gowns Arthur had grown used to seeing her in, Morgana currently wore a sensible but well-made brown travelling dress, and her dark hair was braided neatly down her back. Looking at his half-sister like this, with the moonlight illuminating her in a soft glow as she rode through the trees, intending to help people rather than to kill them, brought a great pang of sadness to his heart. When did you become so lost? He asked her in his thoughts.

"You know, if you just told her how you feel, I'm sure she'd appreciate it a lot more than this creepy staring." Arthur straightened and twisted to face his manservant, who had come up beside him unexpectedly.

"What do you mean?" Confusion laced Arthur's voice. Had Merlin remembered their future as well?

"Well, it's obvious you're in love with her." Arthur gaped, but Merlin was still speaking. "You haven't stopped staring at her since we left, and she isn't even wearing one of her special man-catching gowns."

Disgust rose in Arthur at the thought of being _in love_ with Morgana, of all people. "I would never be in love with _her_!" He lowered his voice. "That's _completely _gross, Merlin." How could anyone think he would be in love with his _sister_, the sister who had tried to kill him at least half a dozen times, what's more?

Merlin grinned at him in clear disbelief. "Right, Sire," he said, mockingly. Once again, Arthur was struck by the fact that this was not his Merlin. Still, he could not help the snide, joking retort that passed his lips.

"Oh please, Merlin," he said, giving his manservant a condescending look, "As if you would know anything about romance. I bet you're hopeless with girls."

Merlin snorted. "I don't have time for girls, what with running after you all the time." Once, Arthur would have scoffed at this. Now, he knew how much 'running after' him Merlin really did, and the banter died on his tongue.

Merlin gave him a strange look at his lack of an answer. When the silence carried on, the sorcerer shrugged next to him and dropped back to ride next to Gwen again.

Arthur watched him drop back, wishing that he could ride next to Gwen. He wanted to tell her about his problems and have her tell him that she believed in him and knew he would make the right decisions, as she always did. Unfortunately, that was not his Gwen riding beside the young Merlin, either.

In spite of the differences between the young Merlin and the man Arthur had grown used to, it would be so easy to confide in Merlin. Even before he learned of Merlin's magic, Arthur had known that his jokes about Merlin's lack of intelligence were unfair. The man had always had strange bouts of wisdom, even in their early days together. Perhaps it had been the burden of his great secret that had aged Merlin beyond his years and given him a wisdom past what most men could hope for, but Merlin had never flinched away from difficult decisions, had always seemed so confident in everything that he did; his unwavering confidence in Arthur and the man he would become had given the young prince, and later the young king, hope in some of his darkest moments. Even with illegal magic, Merlin's loyalty to Camelot and to Arthur was unquestionable.

Still, what could Arthur say? He could not exactly go up to Merlin and say, "By the way, I'm actually a future version of myself, and I know your secret. I thought I was dying, but instead I ended up here. I don't suppose you know of a spell to save someone's life with time travel that your future self might have used on me?"

The words sounded remarkably stupid in his head. Merlin would probably think he'd been enchanted and try to knock him out to save him from himself.

A few hours later, the group finally halted in a small clearing to make camp. Merlin and Gwen busied themselves setting up Arthur and Morgana's things first, and then used a few of their provisions to make a fairly delicious stew.

It hurt a bit to see his best friend and future wife so close as they worked together, when he felt so distant from them both.

Still, there was nothing he could do about Merlin unless he figured out a way to talk to the sorcerer that would not make him sound insane. As for Gwen, he would just have to try not to act like a prat as much as possible, and hope she fell for him soon. He missed his wife desperately. Merlin had helped him win Gwen's heart the first time around; perhaps he would do so again. It would certainly help to stamp out the ridiculous notion that he was in love with Morgana.

His thoughts turned to the battle ahead as he lay down against a large tree with roots branching out from the bottom, forming a little hollow in the ground. He only vaguely remembered the fight; all the details were lost to time. They had defeated the bandit hoard, and surprisingly few people had died, that he did remember. Beyond that, all else was a haze. The lack of detail frustrated him, as he was certain that something import had occurred during the fight. Perhaps it would come back when they reached Ealdor.

Near the fire, Merlin and his mother spoke in low tones, and Arthur watched them for a while as he contemplated the future that was his past. Slowly, the distant murmur of Merlin's voice and the soft crackling of their fire lulled him into sleep. Before he knew it, he had dropped off into blackness.

* * *

Nimueh growled in frustration as she exited the druid camp. It was the third one she had visited, and so far all of them had refused to tell her anything about their prophesies regarding the Once and Future King and his friend, Emrys. Her name was well known to all who remembered the time before the Purge, and many of them considered her responsible for the King's actions. After all, it had been her who agreed to grant the King a son, even at the expense of an innocent life. As a consequence, the druids mistrusted her.

Still, she was not going to give up. There was still one place she could think of to get information. It would be dangerous, and she would likely have to make strike an unpleasant bargain, but she was determined to get the information she wanted.

With a determined sneer, she set off into the woods to find the ingredients she would need for a spell to disguise herself. There was no way she would get into Camelot looking like herself.

* * *

The next morning passed much as the previous evening had for Arthur. Forests stretched across most of the land between the city of Camelot and the edge of Cenred's kingdom where Ealdor lay, and it was slow going on the mountainous paths that snaked upwards through the trees, over the Ridge of Essetir.

Finally, they broke out of the tree cover in early afternoon, and Arthur spotted the small wooden houses of Ealdor in the distance.

As they approached, Arthur realized that something was wrong. Several dirty looking men stood in the center of town, threatening a man who stood tall in front of him. Arthur urged his horse into a gallop just as the largest bandit raised an ax to strike down the villager. He threw a dagger into a wood post behind the man, who must have been Kanen, then threw himself off his horse and drew his sword. He took advantage of the bandits' confusion to strike down one of Kanen's followers immediately.

The bandits rallied quickly, but by that point, Morgana, Merlin, and Gwen had arrived as well and thrown themselves into the fray. Arthur was only distantly aware of their arrival, however, as he turned all his attention to the fight at hand.

He blocked a blow from a large, scowling man in front of him and swung his sword around in a deadly arc, leaving a fatal wound in the man's stomach.

That's two down, he thought to himself, turning his head rapidly from side to side, looking for the next challenger. He cut down another bandit charging at his left side, when he sensed something behind him. Spinning around, he was just in time to see Morgana kill a bandit who had been trying to attack him from behind.

"Bring back memories of when I used to beat you?" Morgana asked, mocking laughter following the words.

Arthur nearly dropped his sword as his mind flashed back to images of Morgana sitting on the throne of Camelot, hatred in her eyes as she sentenced Uther to the dungeons while Arthur watched helplessly, hidden behind a balcony.

"Look out," Morgana yelled, and he swung back to take out another bandit sneaking up behind him.

Kanen screamed as his men were killed around him. "You'll pay for this with your lives! All of you!" He shouted, urging his horse into a gallop and riding out of the village.

Morgana walked up behind Arthur, but he did not notice until she spoke. "What was that all about, just then?" she asked. He made a rather unmanly squeak and spun around to see Morgana giving him an odd look, left eyebrow raised.

"Ah, nothing," he said, hoping she did not pry too much. "I was just not expecting you to be such a good fighter."

Morgana's right eyebrow joined the other by her hairline. "Right…" she said.

"What? It's true." He turned away from her defiantly, hoping she would drop the subject.

He could worry about Morgana later. For now, he needed to bring some hope to these villagers.

"Merlin," he said, finding his manservant about a dozen feet away, near a barn, talking to another young man. "Gather the villagers. I need to speak to them."

"Yeah, in a minute. I'm just talking-" Merlin began, but Arthur cut him off. It would be best if he could speak to everyone soon. They needed to get to work practicing their swordsmanship as soon as possible.

"Now, _Mer_lin," he ordered.

"Yes, Sire," Merlin said, hurrying off.

Once the villagers had been assembled, Arthur looked over them. There were so few of them, and they all wore the simple brown garb of poor folk who had little need or occasion for fancy dress. Still, the scene before him reminded him of the last speech he had given to his knights in Camlann, before Morgana and the Saxons attacked. Those men had been fearless warriors, trained knights of Camelot protecting their homeland and their people. These men were neither fearless warriors nor knights, but they too would fight to protect their homes. Standing in front of them, Arthur spoke to the assembled men in the same voice he used to inspire his knights to battle.

"Kanen will return in a matter of days, at most," Arthur said. "He will likely bring the rest of his men when he returns. When he does, he will find you prepared to fight for what is yours! He will not find-" A voice cut him off.

"Am I the only wondering who the hell this is?" The young man with whom Merlin had been talking earlier addressed his question to the assembled villagers, causing some discontented mutterings.

Memories suddenly reared up in Arthur's mind. This boy was the one he had forgotten. He was Merlin's friend, and the first time around he had saved Arthur's life with his own right before admitting to the use of magic moments prior to drive off Kanen's forces for good. With sudden clarity, Arthur knew what must have happened. If this boy had magic, he would not be spending his time yelling at Arthur; magic was not forbidden by Cenred, so he could have saved the village already. Merlin must have used his magic, meaning that this boy had saved not only Arthur's, but also Merlin's life when he died. He owed this boy a great debt.

"Um, Arthur?" Merlin's voice broke through his thoughts, and he realized with a start that the villagers were waiting for him to answer and beginning to mutter more angrily. Merlin, Gwen, and Morgana were also looking at him, each with varying levels of puzzlement on their faces.

Drawing himself up, Arthur said, "I am Arthur, Crown Prince of Camelot."

The boy interrupted again, sneering. "Yeah, and, er, I'm William, Prince of Ealdor," he said, sarcastically. Finally, Arthur remembered his name.

Hunith and Will got into a brief argument, but Arthur cut them off by raising his voice above the other two. Using his most kingly voice, Arthur said, "If you do not fight Kanen now, he will _never_leave your village in peace. He will take all the food he can find, and those who do not starve will face him each year until your village dies!"

"We'll manage! We'll survive!" Once more, Will cut into Arthur's speech, his words stubborn and angry.

The villagers, at least, saw Arthur's point, however, as they began to stand up to Will. Arthur added his own voice to the villagers', saying, "You must fight for your home, or Kanen will destroy it!"

However, Will was undaunted. "No!" He shouted back. "You just want the honor and glory of battle! That's what drives men like you! Look, if you want to fight, then go home and risk the lives of your own people, not ours!" With his memory of Will's dying face so recently recalled, Arthur flinched from Will's words and looked away.

Hunith took up the cause then. "I'll follow you," she said, a look of determination in her eyes that reminded Arthur strongly of Merlin. "If I'm to die, then I want to go out fighting."

After that, many of the villagers rushed to add their voices to Hunith's, crying out their own resolution to fight. Arthur did his best to maintain a neutral expression as Will stormed off in anger, but inside he sighed. He had no idea what had made the young man return originally. Hopefully, he could find some way to ensure that things went better than the last time.

* * *

The villagers' enthusiasm cooled somewhat as Arthur walked through them, questioning the older men on how many people could fight and what sort of weapons they had and, failing weapons, what they had that could be used as a weapon. Though there were a lot of young men willing to fight who were strong from years of farm work, the weapons situation was dismal.

A hardy, middle-aged man named Garth showed him around the village. It was a tiny place, built for simple folk who, while used to living on their own and surviving by their own wits without much interference from a king, also had little experience with organized fighting. The place was high up in the hills, with few paths leading to it from the surrounding forests.

"That man you saved," Garth said, glancing sideways at Arthur as they walked down a small dirt path between a barn and a tiny home. "His name is Matthew. He was about the only one what still stood up to Kanen, before you lot came along."

Arthur remained silent, wondering where Garth was going with this conversation. He remembered very little of the details of these people's lives. The last time he had been here, he had still been a spoilt brat, unable to truly appreciate any sort of life beyond his own in Camelot.

When Garth realized that no response was forthcoming, he continued. "Matthew's a good man. His son was shot by Kanen and nearly died a week ago. He's still not in great condition." Garth stopped walking, and looked the prince in the eyes, a brave move for a simple farmer. "You gave a fancy speech back there, and the people of this town will fight, as they probably should, but that boy Will wasn't entirely wrong. Some of us are going to die when Kanen comes back with all his men. The rush of battle will see the men through till it's over, but when things settle and our people count their losses, you will not be fondly remembered in Ealdor, as necessary as this will be. So, if it _is_ glory you're looking for, then maybe you _should_ go home."

Once upon a time, Arthur would have bristled at the words and responded with rudeness. He was still tempted to do just that, but years of diplomacy, spending time with Merlin, and marriage to Gwen held him back.

"I understand Will's anger," Arthur said, meeting Garth's eyes, "and I do not begrudge his words. However, he is wrong. I came here to help your village because it is the right thing to do. One day, I will be a King. When that day comes, I will have to decide many times whether to use my power to help those who are weaker than I, no matter who they are, or to use my power as a tyrant, ensuring loyalty in my subjects only through fear. Hopefully, I will always make the right choice."

Garth stared at him long enough for Arthur to become uncomfortable, then nodded. "Alright then. We've still got to go see old Simmons. He wasn't outside earlier, and he won't want to fight, but he's probably got a solid woodcutting ax or two we could arm a few of the younger boys with."

* * *

That night, the Camelot citizens slept on Hunith's floor. She had been kind enough to cook them some food from her limited supply, and had cleared an area of the floor and found a few blankets for them to use. Arthur and Merlin lay next to each other, head to toe.

The others dropped off swiftly to sleep, but Arthur and Merlin remained awake, both lost in thought. Arthur wished desperately that his Merlin could be here next to him. This Merlin was so young. Arthur wanted to say something to him, to reassure him that everything would go well, but he would not lie. Even if Arthur managed to save Will's life, there were sure to be at least a few deaths in the coming battle. Things worth fighting for were rarely gained without loss.

Eventually, even Merlin's breathing evened out into sleep. Arthur stayed up watching his manservant sleep for a while longer, thoughts chasing themselves in fruitless circles in his head, before sleep finally claimed his as well.

* * *

The next morning, after eating a bowl of the porridge that Hunith had been kind enough to make for her guests, Arthur called Merlin over to help him dress for the day. They had little time to waste, if his memories were accurate. Even if they weren't, Kanen did not strike him as the type to wait overlong before attacking his enemies.

"You still not learned how to dress yourself?" Morgana asked mockingly, passing by already in her day-clothes.

Arthur simply scowled at her, prompting another strange look.

"Come on Arthur," she said, "don't tell me you don't have any comebacks? Did sleeping on the floor remove the few wits you have?" She smiled teasingly.

Arthur ignored her. "Are you nearly done?" he asked Merlin. At his manservant's affirmative reply, Arthur strode to the door where Hunith stood watching them. "Thank you for the breakfast," he said. "It was delicious." He missed the looks of surprise that graced everyone's faces as he called over his shoulder to Merlin. "Merlin, I need you to gather wood; I am going to teach the men to fight."

He did not wait for Merlin before leaving Hunith's house. Garth and Matthew had assembled all the able bodied men in the center of the village; as Arthur walked up to them, he hid his dismay at how few there were.

"Right," he said, deciding to get straight to business. "How many of you have swords, axes, or other sharp weapons?" About three quarters of the men raised their hands. "If those of your with weapons could bring them out, I'd like to see what we have to work with," Arthur continued. Most of those who had raised their hands drew out swords, axes, and even a few pitchforks in various states of disrepair, but a few had to run back to their homes, having apparently forgotten to bring their weapons to their first day of training. Of the weapons Arthur inspected, the pitchforks were largely in the best shape. A few people had recently sharpened axes, but even those were notched or scratched at least once from use.

"Right," Arthur said, glancing back to where Gwen and Morgana had come up behind him to watch. "Gwen, your father was a blacksmith, right?"

"He _is_, yes," Gwen replied.

"Can you do something about these weapons?" he asked. "You've only got a day or two."

Gwen drew herself up. "If someone lends me a whetstone, I can at least get all the swords and axes in working order," she said. Next to her, Morgana stepped forward. Arthur had to stop himself from flinching when she spoke.

"I can help. If Gwen will show me what to do, I can at least make the work go more quickly," she said, looking at Gwen. "We need all the speed we can get."

Arthur swallowed back a retort. "Everyone whose weapon is not in peak condition, take your weapon to Guinevere and she'll get it in fighting shape for you," he said, addressing the assembled villagers. "Luke," he said to a boy no older than fifteen by the end of the row, "can you help Guinevere find the tools she will need?" The boy nodded, looking pleased at being singled out by the prince.

"In the meantime," Arthur said to the remaining men once they had deposited their weapons at Hunith's house and Luke had led away Gwen and Morgana, "I will teach you some basic sword-fighting skills. We can use staffs as stand-ins for swords, for now. Those who do not have a sword or other weapon will have to use a staff when the battle comes."

Some of the village men had anticipated this, and already carried staffs of wood. For the rest, they found staffs in broom handles, gardening tools, and anything else they could find.

The training went miserably, of course. Few of the men had ever fought anything more than a particularly stubborn crop before, he guessed. He taught them how to stand so they would be strongest and then gave them a set of parries and blows that were not too difficult.

"Remember, keep your feet moving, and never stay close to your enemy for longer than it takes to land a blow," he cried. He corrected the stance of a middle aged man, then moved to a boy a year or two older than himself and showed him how to grip his sword to make the blows stronger.

After some time, he realized that Matthew and three others wielded their pretend blades better than the rest. Matthew especially seemed more comfortable than those around him. He would need less training than the others to hold his own.

"Matthew," he said, interrupting the man in question as he swung his sword in a downward arc. "I want you to organize a patrol. Watch the edges of the woods, and if you see Kanen or his men coming, ride back. You do not need to engage him until he comes for the village."

Matthew nodded, breaking away from the group. He gathered two others, and they rode away in the same direction Kanen had gone the day before.

A few men stopped their drills to watch Matthew's small group ride away. "Get back to your practice," Arthur told them. "One, two, three, four!" He called out the time for the men, who went back to blocking and stabbing as he had shown.

Several hours later, Arthur allowed the weary men to break for a brief lunch. He watched them rest, frustration worming its way through him at how little skill most of them had. He had to talk to Merlin. There was no way they could defeat Kanen without using magic, as Merlin had the first time.

"Looks like the battle's already fought and lost." Morgana came up behind him, causing him to whip around with his own sword out. He remembered at the last moment that this was not his Morgana. Still, he really wished she would stop sneaking up on him.

She raised one dark eyebrow at him, frowning. "You have been acting very oddly since we set out, Arthur," she said. "You know, if you're too afraid to fight, Gwen and I would be happy to take your place." She grinned at him

"I'm fine," Arthur said, brushing off Morgana's concern. Turning to Gwen, he asked, "How are the weapons coming?"

Gwen, too, was giving him an odd, concerned look, but quickly covered it up as he addressed her. "They are coming along reasonably well," she said. "I think we'll be able to scrounge up a few more, as well, enough to arm a few more men. There are also a lot of farming tools that can be used as weapons for those who don't have a real weapon." She hesitated, then plowed forward. "However, you need more people than you have. We think the women should be allowed to fight."

Arthur smiled at the determination on her face. Morgana was adding her own argument to Gwen's statement, but Arthur ignored it. He loved Gwen for her ability to stand up for everyone and her willingness to help whoever needed help even at cost to herself. There were truly few women in the world as amazing as his Guinevere.

"I would be honored to fight beside you," he said, knowing she would not be dissuaded.

Both women stared at Arthur in surprise. "Well," Morgana said finally, "it's good to see that you're finally getting over your prejudice."

"Indeed," Arthur replied. "I have a more open mind than you believe, Morgana," he said, speaking more to the Morgana she would become than the woman in front of him. She gave him a considering look.

"Perhaps you do, Arthur. Perhaps you do."

The rest of the day was spent on more sword drills and footwork. By the time night fell, every able-bodied man in Ealdor was ready to drag himself to the nearest soft spot and sleep for a week. At the same time, they felt energized in a way they had rarely experienced before.

Arthur had proved to be a worthy teacher, patient and willing to explain things more than once, yet strict and harsh where he needed to be. Many young men were already looking up to Arthur, and several of the older men remarked that Arthur showed wisdom beyond his few years and already conducted himself like a king.

In Hunith's house, Arthur once more found himself lying next to his manservant on the floor after a meal of porridge. Merlin had disappeared all day, no doubt to talk to Will about magic. The sorcerer had reappeared in time for dinner, but Arthur had not dared talk to him in front of everyone. He resolved to corner Merlin the next day.

With that thought, Arthur drifted off to sleep, dreaming uneasy dreams about magic and dragons before the blackness of deep sleep claimed him.


	4. The Battle of Ealdor

A chill breeze brought doubt and unrest the next morning, in spite of the bright sunlight. Upon waking, Arthur found himself presented with more porridge for breakfast. He thanked Hunith, and she smiled at his sincerity. When he finished, Morgana approached him and addressed him quietly.

"I am sorry if I have done something to offend you more than usual," she said.

Arthur glanced at her in confusion. "I don't know what you mean," he said. "You're certainly irritating, but no more than usual." That was a lie, of course. In the final years of her life, 'usual' for Morgana had come to mean evil, more often than not. However, his words were true for this Morgana, he supposed.

She smiled at him, and there was no trace of malice or hate in the expression. "Then you must be very worried for Merlin," she said. When he raised his eyebrows, she elaborated. "You have been awfully quiet and strange these past few days. Why, you haven't even called Merlin an idiot once during the entire trip, that I've heard, and you've hardly looked at me."

Arthur looked away. Concern for Merlin was not what had him acting so strangely, of course, but it would be still be a lie to say that he didn't care a great deal about his manservant. Morgana took his silence as confirmation of her guess and grinned teasingly at him. There was surprising warmth in her voice when she spoke.

"I never would have suspected that you could grow so close to a servant, Arthur," she said, watching him with calculating eyes. "Even when you saved him from that poison, you were still repaying a debt. I suppose you do have a heart, after all. I am impressed." Her words were lightly mocking, but he heard the admiration beneath the words.

A rush of memories flashed through Arthur's mind: Morgana crying for him because of a dream she had about his death, Morgana saving Mordred because she did not want an innocent child to die, Morgana unable to watch any time Uther executed a sorcerer, and here, Morgana helping Merlin save his village even though she had no reason to be here except compassion.

"Uther should have sent knights to help this village, but at least Merlin has you, and that counts for at least a few knights," she said softly, giving him a genuine smile. Arthur was taken aback. Even before she had turned against Camelot, a compliment from Morgana had been a rare thing.

Before he could reply, a cry rent the air outside.

They both ran outside. A dusky brown gelding rode into the village: Michael's horse, that he had ridden out on patrol. Michael's body lay on top of the horse, still in the saddle but with an arrow in his back.

Arthur directed a few men to get Michael down from the horse, and they found a note wrapped around the shaft of the arrow that had killed him.

"Make the most of this day. It will be your last," Arthur read. More words were cut off by a scream, as a woman coming out of a home down the street saw Matthew's body.

"Matthew! No, no, no!" she screamed, and Arthur felt shame and anger wash through him. He should have remembered that this would happen! This man had not needed to die. As though echoing his thoughts, another voice rang out in the cold air.

"You did this!" Will approached Arthur and pointed accusingly at the men hauling Matthew away for burial. "Look what you've done! You've killed him!"

Arthur flinched from Will's voice, knowing it was true, but Merlin rose to his defense. "It wasn't his fault," Merlin said, standing up for Arthur as he always had.

Of course, Will would not be calmed by platitudes. "If he hadn't been strutting around, treating us like his own personal army, this would never have happened!" Will yelled back.

This accusation finally made Arthur angry. This death was his fault, but only because he had been too focused on other things to remember it would happen. However, these men were defending their homes, and death was a small price to pay for the right to live in peace.

"These men fight for their homes and their freedom," he said, his voice commanding attention from all assembled. "Sometimes, yes, that means death, but some men would rather face death then live long lives in servitude. If you do not feel the same, then you are not obligated to fight."

Will glared, but did not respond. Briefly, Arthur felt ashamed of his words. This boy had given his life for Arthur and kept Merlin's secret as well for the sake of friendship, even if it meant a black mark would forever hang over his death. He was hardly a coward. Still, Arthur would not let anyone disparage the fight that was to come. These men needed strength and hope, not fear.

When Will stormed away in anger, Merlin followed at his back, sending one apologetic glance Arthur's way before they disappeared behind the door to one of the small homes.

Pushing aside his own conflicting feelings, Arthur turned to the rest of the villagers. "There will be time for grief tomorrow when the battle is won," he said, "and after that there will be years to remember the honor and your courage with which you will protect your home with pride. For now, we must keep training."

Several minutes later, the men were once more assembled in the center of town with their makeshift weapons. Most of them had improved a bit, but they were still far from being soldiers. A few still even had trouble holding their weapons correctly. As Arthur walked through the men, correcting their stances, re-teaching the previous day's lesson to the slower men, and showing the swifter learners a few more complex strikes, Morgana and Gwen were busy with their own task.

They went through the women, finding those who wished to fight with their husbands, fathers, and brothers, and collecting them in a group near the men. They had managed to scrape together enough farming tools with hard sides or sharp edges to outfit each woman with a weapon of some sort, and once everyone had something in her hands, Morgana took control of their training. Throughout the morning, Arthur chanced glances every so often at the women, in between lessons to the men. Morgana used Gwen for many of her demonstrations, and Gwen withstood it with determination that belied her usual sweet nature. In this Gwen, he could see the woman who would one day be his queen, whom he would trust implicitly to rule with a just and wise but firm hand whenever he was away.

Morgana, on the other hand, was surprisingly adept in her instructions to the woman. Arthur had forgotten that she used to fight with a blade rather than with magic, and that even before she let madness consume her, she had still disdained the trappings that constrained most High-born Ladies, learning to fight with the men as a child and getting into just as many scrapes as her brother during their youth. It had only been during the past few years that she had begun donning pretty dresses of her own free will, though even those she often wielded like weapons against the men at court. Watching her, Arthur remembered how he had once admired and loved her unquenchable spirit.

Later that afternoon, Arthur allowed the men a break and sat by Hunith's door, sharpening his sword to ensure that it would be at peak condition for the coming fight.

"William's father was killed fighting for King Cenred, so he doesn't trust anyone of nobility," Merlin said, sitting down next to Arthur.

It took a moment for Arthur to remember what Merlin was talking about, but when he did, he sighed. He would have to find a way to save that boy. Putting aside his sword, he figured this was as good a chance as he was going to get to speak with Merlin about using magic against Kanen's men. An idea struck him, inspired by his earlier conversation with Morgana.

"He doesn't want to see any of his people die," Arthur said. "That is an understandable position. However, I have been getting the feeling that I'm not the only one he isn't pleased with."

Merlin sat up straighter and gave Arthur a nervous look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Arthur said, picking his words carefully, "there's always been something rather different about you, Merlin."

"That's cause I'm a clumsy idiot, I thought," Merlin joked, grinning in a way that meant he was hiding something.

"Well yes, you are that," Arthur said, bumping Merlin's shoulder with his own. "But there's something else, too." He hurried on before Merlin could distract him with more jokes. "I've noticed how close you and Will are, and I'm guessing he knows that you could help more than you let on." Now Merlin was looking extremely worried. "I know why you don't tell me, and I won't make you say it, but Merlin? Do you remember why my father wouldn't send any of his men to help?"

Merlin looked thrown by the sudden apparent non sequitur, but answered anyway, in a halting voice. "Because Ealdor isn't… a part of … Camelot…." Merlin trailed off as the meaning of Arthur's question sunk in.

"That's right," Arthur said, keeping his tone neutral. "So, if I were to, say, see something that would be against the law in Camelot? Well, I would have no reason to report it to my father if it happens way out here outside his borders."

Arthur stood up, his voice returning to its usual brusque tones when addressing Merlin. "Anyways, I need to gather the villagers back up, Merlin. They're still miserable with weapons, but I have a plan to make this fight a little easier for us." What he did not say was that he was stealing this plan from his memories of the past.

Merlin stood up as well, and Arthur pretended not to notice his suspiciously shiny eyes. "Yes, Sire," Merlin said. "And, thank you."

Neither man noticed Hunith standing behind the door to her home, eavesdropping.

* * *

Guinevere stood in the shadow of Hunith's home later that evening, as Arthur gave a final speech to the people of Merlin's small village. He had trained them for a mere two days, and yet, in spite of their miserable chances, Arthur's voice had only confidence as he rallied the men and women of Ealdor in defense of their home.

"Tomorrow morning," he was saying, "the elderly, the children, and those who do not wish to fight should gather what they can and head for the woods on the far side of town. For those who remain, your battle with be difficult, but it is _not_ without hope! You fight for the most basic and noble of rights: the right to survive and live your lives as you will in peace! You fight to protect the ones you love, and that will be your advantage over Kanen, who fights only to subjugate good men! Tomorrow, you fight for Ealdor!"

Arthur raised his sword, and the men and women around him took up his chant, crying, "Ealdor! Ealdor! Ealdor!"

Gwen watched all this from the back of the crowd, standing next to her Lady, Morgana. When first she and Morgana had decided to convince Arthur to allow the women to fight, they had expected resistance. His response, then, had shocked them both. Gwen still felt strange shivers of pleasure as she recalled the way in which Arthur had looked at her when he agreed. Now, as the evening shadows stretched long across the small village with its wooden houses and dusty dirt paths, Guinevere thought that Arthur looked more a king than his father. The people of the village cheered for him as he brought them hope, even though each of them knew how dangerous and desperate the next day's battle would be.

Ever since Merlin had arrived in Camelot, she had seen a change slowly wrought in the spoiled prince. He had always been strong and proud, but now he appeared also just and wise, as though he had truly come in to himself here in Ealdor, the birthplace of the servant who had become his friend.

* * *

The next day dawned cool and quiet. As the sun rose over the hills, it shone down on a silent huddle of tiny homes, crisscrossed by broad brown streets, the dust untroubled by any foot. The gleam of the sun warmed the air and lit upon the grimed leather and rough swords of a host of men who rode out of the woods and into the empty village, stirring up motes of dust and dirt that caught in the light and clouded the still air. The men stopped at a crossroads, glaring around at the closed and shuttered houses surrounding them. A few of the men shifted nervously in their saddles, and their horses whinnied softly.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Kanen said. He rode at the head of his men, and smiled to see the people he had come to fight cowering from him in fear. They would regret calling that foreign princeling out to fight him.

A sudden shout rent the air, and a gate of sticks and grass was pulled up behind Kanen's men; a moment later, it went up in a roar of flames, trapping them. The horses whinnied and reared. A few of Kanen's men were thrown to the ground; Kanen himself held on to his own horse and called to his men to stay where they were. They had walked right into a trap, like fools!

"Now!" a voice shouted, and villagers sprung up everywhere with battle cries and weapons made of farming tools and old swords, but the one who led them was in shining armor, with golden hair and a bright sword newer and sharper than the rest. It was the foreign prince, Arthur Pendragon, and Kanen wanted to be the one to take him _down_.

Between the two, however, villagers and Kanen's men swept across the ground, fighting and yelling, blocking his way to the prince. Kanen rode through them, cutting down everyone in his path. This man and all these stupid villagers would pay for their arrogance! In spite of the trap, the bandits outnumbered the villagers. The fight was more difficult than Kanen had expected because, as he was disgusted to notice, Camelot's prince had allowed women to join the fighting. That would make no difference, though, he thought, striking down one of the foolish girls as she ran too close to him with a hoe in her hands that she wielded like a weapon, as though a woman could help in battle. He still had more men than all the people in this village. Even if they had decided to let their children and old men fight along with their women, they would still lose!

No sooner had the thought run through his head, then a great wind began to rise in the village, stirring up dirt and straw in small whirlwinds that leapt through the air unnaturally, striking at his men with a precision that could only be achieved through magic. Kanen roared. Magic was outlawed in Camelot, had been for many years of the reign of their king, Uther, yet, here was magic being used against Kanen's men by Uther's own son! A whirlwind swept near Kanen, and his horse reared with a frenzied whiny, unseating him. He rose to his feet in a rage. This day would not end without the Pendragon's blood.

"Pendragon!" Kanen's cry rent the air. Most of his men had fled at the strange winds, and his way to the young prince was now clear.

Arthur turned to face him, meeting Kanen's sword with his own. The two circled each other, and then the Prince struck, driving forward hard and fast, and forcing Kanen to stumble backwards against the onslaught. Suddenly, he became afraid. The young prince fought like a man years older, and there was a light in his eyes that spoke of memories of battles and wars past. As Kanen blocked and parried, trying desperately to find an opening to land his own strike, the prince's sword swung round in an unexpected feint, and Kanen's sword spun away from his hands, glittering in the sunlight before falling to the dirt. He barely had time to comprehend this before he felt a rush of agony in his core. Looking down, he saw the sword of the prince protruding from beneath his breast, and red was already staining his dirty shirt.

Kanen fell to his knees and the prince stepped back, a look of surprise on his face, as though he too had not expected things to end as they did. One last gurgle of rage passed Kanen's lips, and then he died.

* * *

Merlin watched in shock as Arthur struck a killing blow to Kanen, defeating the bandit leader and finally bringing peace to Ealdor.

The plan had gone near flawlessly, with Morgana and Gwen closing the makeshift gate as Merlin lit it on fire, trapping the invaders. Merlin had wanted to stay with Arthur, but his prince had ordered him to be the one to light the fire instead. Still, Merlin had rushed out to join the fight as soon as the battle was underway.

He had nearly died before he could do much good, but Will had appeared then, his best friend saving him from being impaled on a bandit's sword in spite of his hatred for fighting and nobles. Merlin had smiled then, knowing what he had to do.

"I didn't think you were coming," he said, clasping Will's hand in his own. Will was dressed in father's old mail, and he grinned at Merlin with grim humor.

"Neither did I," Will said, turning his back to Merlin so he could watch for more men.

"Well, I'm glad you came," Merlin said. "Now you can see me prove that Arthur's not like other nobles." His eyes nearly teared up again with joy at the thought of the conversation that had occurred the previous day, after Will stormed away, but he swept his pleasure to the back of his mind for now. He would need all his concentration for this.

"How're you gonna do that?" Will asked, standing next to him as they watched others fight, their attention staying away from the two boys for the moment.

"He knows," Merlin said, a bright grin lighting up his face, "and he gave me permission to do this!" Raising his had above the ground, he incanted, "_Cume þoden_."

Whirlwinds had swept through the enemy, conjured by Merlin's spell and routing their forces. A few villagers followed the retreating men to ensure that they truly left, but Merlin's attention was grabbed by Kanen. The bandit leader roared his anger at Arthur, challenging the prince to a duel. Before Merlin could do anything, Arthur had turned to meet him and they began to fight.

That had not been expected. Merlin watched them with fear in his eyes, and Will had to hold him back from rushing in to defend Arthur, which likely would have only gotten him killed. Neither could he use magic to give Arthur an advantage. The rest of the fighting had stopped, and everyone would see if he did something. Besides that, Arthur and the bandit leader circled each other too closely for Merlin to help, even if he could have done so without alerting the entire village to his magic. They were still close to Camelot, even if they were not a part of it, and some of them would not think well of him having magic.

When the prince finally struck at Kanen, the force of his attack pushed the other man back and caused gasps among those watching. Even Merlin, who knew the prince was counted as one of the finest fighters in Camelot and had watched the prince fighting with knights for months, was surprised by Arthur's ferocity. He seemed to have turned into a whirlwind himself as he struck right and left, high and low, dotting Kanen with strips and spots of blood. Finally, he got in fully under Kanen's defense and struck swift and true, thrusting his sword through the center of Kanen's chest, right below his breast.

The villagers stood silent for a moment, before a cheer went up. Arthur braced himself on his sword in the road, and Merlin ran up to him, Will following behind.

"That was a lucky break we got with that wind," Arthur said, turning and smiling conspiratorially at Merlin. The sorcerer grinned back, pleased to see that Arthur was unhurt.

"It was lucky indeed," he said, perfectly happy to pretend. He would still be unable to use magic back in Camelot so long as Uther ruled, but Arthur's acceptance lightened his heart nonetheless. It seemed the dragon had not lied when he said, so many months ago, that Arthur would be a great man.

Next to him, Will stepped forwards. Merlin reached out a hand to hold him back, but Will stopped him.

"I'd like to apologize for the things I said before," Will said, holding out his hand to Arthur.

Arthur took his hand with the dignity of a king greeting a lord. "You had your reasons for behaving as you did, and I do not begrudge you your anger. The important thing is that you made the honorable choice and came back in the end."

Will swallowed and nodded. "Anyway, it seems I misjudged you. Merlin's my best friend, and I should have trusted his judgment. He thinks highly of you, so in the future you shall have my loyalty." He laughed then, a bit sheepish. "That is, if you ever had some odd reason to need a poor farm boy who's more troublemaker than anything else."

"I shall keep your words in mind, and I thank you for your offer. You are a brave man, no matter what you may think," Arthur said, taking Will's words with surprising gravity. Then he smiled. "Anyways, I'm hungry, Merlin. I don't suppose your mother has anymore of that delicious porridge?" His sudden cheerfulness caught Merlin by surprise, and he stumbled through a response.

"Right, um, I'll go find you something, then," he said, turning to hurry away and do just that, when Arthur's voice stopped him.

"And Merlin?" the prince said. "Make sure you get some food for yourself and your friend, here, as well. You're both disgustingly skinny."

"Of course, Sire," Merlin said, giving Arthur a mocking bow and a glare. When he turned away, however, there was a smile on his face, and a bounce in his step. He still thought it seemed a bit odd how much Arthur had changed recently, but perhaps it had simply taken leaving Camelot for a bit to get the prince to acknowledge changes that had been occurring since he met Merlin. Whatever it was, Merlin was happy.

* * *

**AN:** I've been reading Tolkien lately, which I think influenced the battle scenes a bit. Anyways, please let me know what you thought, as always! Soon, we'll be getting in to the real plot.


	5. Coming Home to Old Enemies

The party from Camelot had remained in Ealdor through the rest of the day following the battle. The following morning, they set out under the patchy clouds that a cold wind had blown down from the Ridge of Essetir to the west. It seemed like now that they had defeated their enemy, the weather had decided to mourn the bandits' defeat rather than celebrate the villagers' victory. Morgana drew her cloak closer as she glanced back one last time before the trees blocked Ealdor from view. She had enjoyed the chance to fight with the men and make a difference; a part of her wished to remain in that small village, but it was not the life she was meant to have. Besides, she had to stay in Camelot, so she could help Arthur take care of Merlin and make sure that Uther did not destroy the place with his feud against magic. Sometimes, she felt as though she were the only sane one in the place.

The small company rode all day, passing through the mountains and down towards the plains of Camelot. The leaves on the trees had flamed into vibrant color during the fighting against Kanen, and now they fell to the ground in deep, soft drifts around the horses' feet. In some places, the leaves had choked and covered treacherous ground, and the group went single file with Arthur in front, carefully picking out the safe path. During these moments, Morgana took the chance to study her prince.

Hi behavior had been so strange the past few days. He hardly bantered with her, and she had spotted him many times eying Merlin with something like grief and longing. She had known that he had come to care for the boy (how could anyone in Camelot not know, after all, with all the friendly bickering those two did?), and there had been that instance with the poisoned goblet, when he had gone questing at risk to his own life to save Merlin. Still, that could be explained by masculine bravado, and their bantering, while playful, always ended when Arthur wanted it to. This trip to Ealdor, though, had shown Morgana a new side to the crown prince. The way Arthur had not hesitated to join Merlin on his trip home, and then had jumped right into helping the village that did not even belong to his lands when they got there, spoke to a much deeper bond between servant and prince than Morgana had realized existed.

Then, there was the event that had occurred during the actual fight.

When the small group stopped to camp for the night, Morgana sent Gwen off to gather wood with Merlin. Once the two servants were out of sight, she cornered Arthur next to his horse. "Do you know," she said, choosing her words carefully, "I noticed something very strange when we were fighting Kanen and his men." Arthur's movements stilled, and he turned to face her.

"I'm sure you saw lots of weird things," he said, very unconvincingly. "It was a fight. Weird things happen in fights."

"Weird things like winds out of nowhere that somehow attack only our enemies?" she asked, watching his response. When he remained silent for too long (a period of about five seconds, admittedly), she let her frustration kill any subtlety. "I know that was magic, Arthur," she said, grabbing his arm. "That was magic, and it _helped_ us!"

She was startled at the sudden blankness that covered Arthur's face, as though all thoughts had been hidden away behind a steel curtain. "If that was magic?" he asked, looking her in the eyes with a strange intensity. "It doesn't matter, because it was not in my father's kingdom, so it was not illegal. Beyond that, it helped us, and I highly doubt Ealdor is a town of evil folk. So leave it, Morgana. Just, leave it." He turned away from her and returned to retrieving his bedroll from his horse.

Whatever Morgana had expected from her talk with Arthur, that had not been anywhere near it. If she had to guess, Morgana would have said that Arthur knew who was responsible for the magic, but that was impossible. No matter what changes Merlin had wrought in the spoilt prince, he was still the son of Uther Pendragon, and that meant hating magic.

Shaking her head, Morgana turned back to her own things. Shortly afterwards, she heard Gwen and Merlin heading back through the forest with firewood. The two were talking and laughing as they returned to the camp and set up a fire. Their friendship put a smile on Morgana's face; she thought they would make a very cute couple when they finally figured their feelings out.

* * *

When the group came within sight of Camelot the next day, Arthur paused for a moment. In the future during the last moments before what he expected to be his death, Arthur had thought he would never see his home again, and he had mourned. Then, when he had first returned to the past, he had been far too busy thinking he was in a dream or going mad to truly appreciate his location. Thus, he found himself balking at the final stretch of long grass between the travelers and the castle of Camelot.

He could see, in his mind's eye, Queen Guinevere standing on the battlements, waiting to welcome him home, while Gwaine and Percival chased each other through the corridors, causing almost as much trouble as Merlin sometimes. Leon, of course, would come out to meet him and offer him an escort back within the city; that, or he would be with Gwen, offering her counsel with the wisdom of years of service.

With a pang, Arthur realized that he had no idea which of his knights had survived the battle at Camlann. It seemed wrong that he may now never know who had given their lives with honor in the last battle of that bloody war.

"Are you planning to stand under the trees all day, Arthur, or did you leave your wits back in Essetir?" He shook himself out of his thoughts as he heard Merlin calling out to him.

"I'm coming, _Mer_lin," he said, urging his horse forwards. As he drew alongside his servant, he shot back, "Don't tell me the reason you're always such an idiot is because you leave _your_ wits in Ealdor. I suppose it would explain why you can never seem to follow the simplest orders without mucking something up."

He softened his words with a teasing grin, and was rewarded with an annoyed, "At least I'm not a complete clotpole!"

The two continued bickering good-naturedly as they rode towards Camelot, and Arthur allowed himself to be distracted for a little while by the banter. He still did not understand how he had come to be here, but unless it happened again, forwards was the only way to go, as always.

The ride across the long grass took little time; sooner than he would have liked, Arthur found himself passing through the gate to the lower city of Camelot. A guard of red-cloaked knights met the small party of travelers just beyond the gate, and Arthur pulled his horse to a halt.

"The king commands that you, Prince Arthur, and the Lady Morgana are to meet him in the council room," the knight in front said. Arthur recognized him as Sir Ranulf, a knight only a few years older than Arthur. He had died during Arthur's final year as king; seeing him alive and untroubled by the wars to come rattled Arthur. Behind Sir Ranulf stood several other knights that Arthur knew as well, but it was Ranulf's face that drew Arthur's gaze.

"Of course," Arthur said, dismounting and letting the knight lead him away. "Take care of my horse, would you Merlin?" he called back absently over his shoulder.

_This man should be dead._

The thought chased itself round and round Arthur's head as he was led through the castle corridors. Every time he saw another face that he recognized as a man or woman killed long ago, the words would flash through his mind yet again. By the time they reached the council room, Arthur felt as though his head were about to spin right off his shoulders. Here, he was greeted by yet another sign that everything was wrong.

Instead of the round stone table that had stood in the center of the room during Arthur's reign, a wooden table took up the entire room, with Uther sitting at the head. The long table, its surface made black and shiny from age, somehow made the room look smaller and darker than it did during Arthur's time. Uther's glower did not add any cheer to the atmosphere, either.

Morgana stalked into the room, but Arthur followed more slowly. The last time he had spoken to his father, the man's ghost had attempted to kill his wife, several of his knights, and his manservant who also happened to be his best friend and guardian angel. He blinked rapidly to hold back the wetness that threatened his eyes. It would not do to burst into tears at the sight of his father. No one would have a clue what was wrong, and he doubted 'I haven't seen you alive in years' would go down very well with anyone. Luckily, Morgana was currently commanding all of their father's attention.

"How dare we go?" she was saying angrily in response to something Uther had said. "_You_ refused to help Merlin's mother, but that did _not_ mean that he had to go back to his home alone. What is our power for, if not to help those who need it?" She had clenched her hands into fists at her sides as she yelled at Uther, leaning forwards as though to impress her point upon him with the force of her presence alone.

Uther was unimpressed. "The boy is a servant, and his village is not a part of our kingdom," he said, glaring back at Morgana. "If we try to aid everyone who comes to us, we will be too overstretched to help _our own_ citizens!"

Watching them together, Arthur felt his breath catch. They were both so alike, it was a wonder he had not realized earlier than he had that they were related. Arthur had plenty of stubbornness, it was true, but his father and Morgana outmatched him by a mile. They would never stop screaming at each other, not until either Morgana was in the dungeons or his father was dead, unless he did something. So, swallowing his pride and the voice that said Uther's crown should be _his_ crown, sitting on _his_ head, he stepped forward.

"I apologize for my misdeeds," he said, kneeling before his father. Morgana whirled on him.

"You have nothing to apologize for!" she said, glaring back at Uther. "It is your father who should apologize!"

Arthur ignored her, as he had been doing since his return to the past. "Father, it is my fault that anyone besides Merlin left to Ealdor, and I will take the full punishment that you deem necessary. Morgana and Guinevere came to help me, and Merlin had my permission to go." He grit his teeth at the words, but remained kneeling.

"Fine, then," Morgana said, throwing her hands up. "Take the blame. You're both men, so I don't know why I expect either of you not to be idiots."

Uther ignored her as well. "Very well," he said, staring down at Arthur. "Taking responsibility for your actions is the sign of a wise leader." Arthur did his best not to snort. He loved his father dearly, and the man's faults had not stopped him from being a great king for many years. "I will not punish you for this incident. Do not let it happen again, though."

Arthur rose, looking his father in the eye. "Yes, Sire," he said. "I will do everything I can in the future to become worthy of being your successor one day on the throne." The memory of Uther's spirit condemning his work as king surfaced in his mind, and he forced it down. He would do everything he could to be the best possible prince for his people, and when his father died, hopefully after many happy years, he would be the best king he could be, regardless of what his father thought of his method of ruling.

Thankfully, Uther could not hear his thoughts, and so the king nodded to him in approval. "Good," he said, returning to his chair. Morgana scoffed at them both, but Uther stalled her voice with a raised hand. "I have one other matter to discuss with you both," he said. "We have a guest at Camelot, and I was very displeased not to have the pleasure of introducing her to my son and my ward when she arrived." Uther waved at the door, where a woman was entering the room. "May I present you both with the Lady Morgause, of the House of Reghed."

Arthur stared in horror as a familiar scowling blonde walked in to the council room, throwing a brief, forced smile at Uther before turning on Arthur. He saw her gaze slip carefully past Morgana, her eyes registering only the briefest flash of emotion, before she was speaking.

"Well met, Arthur Pendragon," she said. Her voice was just as he remembered it, soft and flat, but hinting at hidden edges. "Your father has been kind enough to let me use his libraries. I am a great fan of history and scholarship, but unfortunately my own father's collection can hardly compare to the books you have here in Camelot." She smiled at him. "I do hope that you and Morgana will join us for supper tonight, now that you have returned from your journey."

As Arthur was too busy holding himself back from dueling Morgause where she stood, Morgana answered the witch. "We would be delighted to dine with you," she said, in a voice that indicated that she was anything but delighted to spend more time in Uther's presence at that moment.

Morgause ignored Morgana's tone. "I am glad to hear it," she said.

All throughout the meal, which was peppered with small talk and made up news from Reghed's lands (for Arthur knew she must have used sorcery to convince Uther that Reghed, who's only child, Owain, had died when Tristan de Bois rose briefly from the dead what seemed like an age ago, had a daughter), Arthur did his best not to glare at Morgause, gritting his teeth whenever he had to speak to her. Several times, his hand moved to his side, where his sword would be were he not eating with his father, and he clenched the empty air at his side, wishing that he could poison the witch with the power of his thoughts. Morgana and Uther shot him strange looks each time he did this, as a grimace passed over his face at each reminder that he had no weapon nearby.

After the third time he did this, he finally remembered that he did, in fact, have some protection. Merlin had returned to the hall to serve Arthur after taking care of the horses. When the sorcerer refilled his cup as Arthur was once more clutching for his nonexistent sword, he realized that Merlin was also watching the witch with mistrust. Merlin had not trusted her the first time around either, and Arthur was glad to note that, even without her challenging the prince to a duel, Merlin had still picked up on her suspicious nature. He was going to have to have a serious talk with his manservant, soon.

* * *

That night, long after the others had retired to their chambers at the end of supper, Morgause remained awake. She sat far back in a dusty corner of the royal library, going through book after book, but nothing mentioned anything like the magic she had felt several days ago. One look at Morgana had been enough to convince the witch that her sister was not yet powerful enough to produce magic of that magnitude, so she was no closer now to finding the source of the power than she had been in Cenred's kingdom. All of her plans had been thrown of course for this venture; unless she found something, it would be for naught. No, her trip would not be entirely wasted. She had, at least, seen her sister that evening, and that was worth any number of wasted trips.

There was one last place Morgause could think to check for answers about the magical event. It was the last resort of last resorts, and even as she made her way down the silent corridors of the castle and across the dark, empty courtyard, slipping past guards with ridiculous ease, she wondered if it was not perhaps folly to seek this one.

When she reached the stairs down to the place she sought, the sight of the two guards passed out at a table heightened her wariness. She paused to cast a spell to divert attention from herself, then continued down.

Halfway down the corridor leading to the prison of the last dragon, Morgause heard the sound of another person walking up in her direction. She slid into the shadows and extinguished her blue witch-light, watching, a spell on the tip of her tongue and her arm held out before her in readiness. What she saw made her drop her arm in surprise.

The High Priestess Nimueh, once Court Sorcerer to the king before being cast out of Camelot at the beginning of the Purge, made her way out of the dragon's cave slowly, looking around with sharp eyes, as though she could sense Morgause hiding.

"You're the traitor who caused the Purge," Morgause said, stepping out into the light cast by Nimueh's small torch.

Nimueh sneered, eyes easily breaking through Morgause's enchantment. She hid her surprise impressively well, a slight widening of her eye the only indication that she had been caught unawares.

"Please. It was Uther's arrogance that caused the Purge," Nimueh said. She swept her dark hair over her shoulder and glared down her nose at Morgause. "I simply did as he ordered, and for that he killed my friends and cast me out of this castle."

"You could have chosen another to die for his folly," Morgause sneered back. "Or better yet, you could have refused to bring a child into the world when it would mean the death of any innocent." Nimueh's appearance threw an even bigger wrench into her plans than anything else. The other woman was older and more powerful. She could crush Morgause's plans like so much trash if Morgause did not play things carefully. "Does Uther know you are sneaking about his secret dungeons," she asked, holding back the venom in her voice with an effort.

"I could care less what Uther does and does not know," Nimueh replied. "Besides, I doubt that he knows of your little adventure down here, either."

"At least I have a reason to be in Camelot," Morgause said, her soft voice becoming clipped. "As far as Uther knows, I am here researching history in his library. It would not be terribly strange if I felt restless in the night and got a bit lost. I doubt you would get the same benefit of the doubt."

Nimueh laughed. "Please," she said, "you are here for the same reason as I." Morgause narrowed her eyes. "You must have felt the disturbance in the Old Religion six days ago as well."

"And what if I have?" Morgause asked. "If you are here, then you cannot know any more than I."

"You forget that I have already spoken to the creature you were planning to visit," Nimueh said, continuing to smile. "You should not presume to know how much I do and do not know. I am not a blind fool like Uther or his son."

Morgause opened her mouth to respond, but a noise from above caused both witches to freeze. "I swear, I heard something," a voice said. Another voice replied, "And I swear, nothing could have gotten past us. We've been sitting here for hours. Unless the beast is talking to itself, you can't have heard anything."

Nimueh cursed quietly. "You made me wait too long," she hissed at Morgause. Both women melted into the shadows in the walls and cast new spells of illusion over themselves as the two guards appeared around a corner, still bickering. They waited several minutes before the guards returned.

"I told you there was nothing down there but the dragon," the larger one said to his companion as they passed the two witches again. "Mind you, he's creepy enough as is."

When the two guards finally vanished back to their posts, the two witches emerged from the shadows and stared at each other.

"If you want to find out more, then I suggest you ask the druids about the Once and Future King," Nimueh said, finally, before vanishing. Morgause cursed. A trip to the druids was hardly what she needed.

With a growl, Morgause left the passage to the dragon's prison. There was no telling what the beast would say, if Nimueh had already made some deal with it. Instead, she would follow the other woman's advice and talk to the druids. They were not friendly to Nimueh the last she had heard, and were thus less likely to be a part of some plot the elder High Priestess had concocted. Before she left, however, there was one thing she had yet to do.

Making her way back through the castle, Morgause sighed to herself as she passed the night guards with ease. It hardly required any of her magic to reach the doors to Morgana's rooms. When they took over Camelot, she decided, they would really have to ensure that they had better guards than the ones Uther employed. She knocked on Morgana's door softly, and was pleased to hear movement in the room a moment later in answer.

Morgana seemed surprised to see her, when the door was opened. "Lady Morgause," she said, "what brings you to my door this late at night?" Morgause's sister had dark circles under her eyes and yawned as she spoke, though she tried to hide it.

"Your court physician, Gaius, told me that you have nightmares," Morgause lied, knowing full well the cause of her sister's sleeplessness. "I thought perhaps you might like this old heirloom I was given by my mother," she said, holding out a beautiful bracelet. "It helps to bring good dreams and quell restlessness, and has been in my family for many years." If she had to leave, it would make her heart happier to know that her sister was sleeping in peace. She had also decided that at least a part of her plots could still go forwards. She could not wait for the day when Morgana would accept her and they would rule Albion together, the sorcerer queens, and create a land where the Old Religion ruled once more.

Morgana took the bracelet, and Morgause was pleased to see the wonder in her eyes as she felt its soothing magics begin to work. "Are you sure?" Morgana asked, still looking at the bracelet. "This looks like a very valuable gift."

"I am entirely sure," Morgause said. "I want you to have it, Lady Morgana. You are a king's ward and a wonderful girl, from what I hear. I cannot think of a gift more worthy of one as lovely as yourself."

Morgana smiled a bit uncertainly. Morgause realized she should perhaps tone down the compliments until her sister understood a bit more. Unfortunately, that understanding would have to wait. Even in her original plans, this stage needed time.

"Please give your king my regards tomorrow," Morgause continued. At Morgana's confused look, she elaborated. "I have received a message from my father and must depart for now. Perhaps I will return again, however. If that happens, I would be delighted to get to know you better."

"Yes, of course," Morgana said. She glanced back down at the bracelet, studying the strange markings along the sides. When she looked back up, Morgause had disappeared.

* * *

That night, Arthur found it difficult to sleep. He lay in his bed, but without Guinevere, it didn't feel right. The bed was too cold, and too big, for just him.

To make matters worse, when Arthur had attempted to speak to Merlin that evening when the sorcerer came to draw him a bath before bed and help him into his bedclothes, the young man had avoided his every attempt to bring up sorcery and Morgause. Granted, Arthur had not, perhaps, gone about things in the best way when he tried to start the first conversation with, "I think we need to talk, now that you are back in a land where you are illegal. My father will gladly cut off your head if he finds out about you."

After that, Merlin had deflected any attempts to talk about his skills, joking that Arthur must be getting sick, to think that Merlin could be intelligent enough to be a _sorcerer_. In frustration, Arthur had ended up throwing a candlestick at Merlin, who had darted out of the room with a final quip about Arthur's hygiene and lack of ability to take care of himself.

Now, as he tossed and turned in his bed, Arthur had guilt over his treatment of Merlin as well as the pain of missing his wife to keep him awake. Finally, he got out of bed and walked over to his window. Looking out at the city he would one day rule had often brought him calm as a child. It was a reminder of the responsibility and power that he would have when his father passed away.

Now, he found that it was a reminder of the ways in which he had failed his responsibilities.

With Merlin's revelation had come the uncomfortable realization that all magic could not be evil, not if silly, loyal, brave Merlin wielded it. This realization, of course, brought with it the knowledge that, if magic was not evil, then he had been unfairly persecuting many of the citizens he was sworn to protect throughout his reign. This knowledge lay heavy in his stomach, made all the more unbearable by the lack of Gwen by his side, or Merlin's constant affirmations in his ear.

As he stared out at Camelot, resting as quietly as a city ever did beneath the late fall stars, a flash of movement in the courtyard caught his eye. A cloaked figure dashed across the stones, and a few blonde ringlets stood out in the darkness beneath the hood. Arthur was halfway to his sword before he pulled up short. He could do nothing against a sorceress as powerful as Morgause. Now that he knew Merlin's secret, he could see how his servant must have protected him and Camelot every time some magical threat appeared. Merlin, though, was currently off in his room off of Gaius's quarters, presumably fast asleep. Arthur returned to the window. After nearly half an hour, the cloaked figure of Morgause reappeared in the courtyard, this time returning to the main castle. Another half hour later, she exited once more, this time hurrying towards the gates out of the city.

These movements baffled Arthur. If she had planted something in the castle, surely she would want to stay around to see it work. Her departure suddenly seemed even more ominous than her first appearance. Something had definitely changed to make her appear earlier than she had in his memories, but what that could be he had no idea. She had also failed to challenge him, and now left without once speaking to him about his mother, to draw him into the trap he remembered.

Arthur hardly got any sleep that night, instead tossing and turning and wishing that Merlin were there. He would corner that manservant and talk to him the next day if it was the last thing he did. Whatever Morgause was up to, Merlin would figure it out, and they would deal with it together, as they always did.

* * *

**AN:** I was going to have more in this chapter, but then Morgause ended up stealing more time than I expected. Darn sorceress. As always, please let me know your thoughts, good or bad!


	6. Plots and Danger in Camelot

**AN:** I apologize for the wait on this chapter. I was having some trouble with a few bits and making things connect. I'm still not sure it's my best chapter, but at least I'm fairly confident it advances the plot decently without being filler, now. It's also extra long, which hopefully will make up at least a bit for the wait (6.5K words and 14 pages in Word!). As always, please tell me what you think.

* * *

The next morning, bright sunlight that painted the insides of his eyes red and gold woke Arthur from a fitful sleep. The sun had already risen high in the sky, indicating the lateness of the hour, by the time Merlin yanked the curtains back from the window by Arthur's bed. He groaned, and rolled over.

"I just had the _worst_ dream," he muttered into his pillow.

"Oh?" Merlin asked far too cheerfully, bounding over to drag the lovely warm blankets away. At least he had managed to stoke the fire first, but the air still had a chill to it that raised gooseflesh up and down Arthur's skin. Arthur glared.

"Yes," he said, dragging himself out of bed. "I dreamed that I ran away with _Morgana_, and somehow you managed to destroy our farmhouse with a lightning bolt. And Guinevere didn't like me." He said the last sentence in a whisper that Merlin, luckily, did not catch. He was fairly certain he had sounded unusually pathetic for a moment.

Of course, he had still given Merlin plenty of ammunition. "Ran away with Morgana, hmmm?" he said, looking decidedly condescending. "Somehow, I doubt the two of you would manage to survive in a farmhouse, so dream-me probably did dream-you a favor, _Sire_."

Arthur growled at the impish grin on his manservant's face. It had been a very scary dream! Morgana had cooked him food and cleaned the house with magic, all while wearing her black dress of rags from her evil days and smiling at him crazily. It was not a scene he ever wanted to see again, in his dreams or out of them.

"Luckily for me," he said, "I'll never _have_ to take care of a farmhouse. I'll be sure to bring you with me if I run away, and you can take care of it for me. Now stop being an idiot and come help me get dressed." Merlin obliged his request, bringing Arthur his favorite red tunic. The shirt was the same bright crimson color as the cloaks worn by the knights, and Arthur always felt extra bright and noble while wearing it. He was surprised that Merlin had chosen that shirt. Then again, he had been in a constant state of stress and confusion since finding himself in the past, and just putting on his favorite shirt made him feel a little bit less lost.

"Are you feeling better, now?" Merlin asked as he brushed the tangles from Arthur's blond hair with his nimble, callused fingers.

Arthur considered the question. He was still feeling well out of his depth, uncertain about everything around him and how he fit in to a time where his father was still on the throne and Merlin was just the idiot who followed him around like a puppy and made inappropriate jokes at inopportune moments. Still, at least Merlin was there, and he _was_ a king, even if it was not yet official. "I'm fine, _Mer_lin," he said, affection hidden beneath the brusque reassurance.

Merlin reached around Arthur to cinch his belt, asking, "Are you done sulking, then?"

"I don't _sulk_," Arthur said, lifting his arms so that Merlin could add a vest to his ensemble as an extra layer against the growing cold. Merlin patted him on the shoulder once he was done, like one would pat a puppy.

"Of course not, Arthur," he said, fond condescension clear in his voice, which turned teasing a moment later. "You're much too much an arrogant prat to do something as common as sulk."

Arthur decided to ignore that last jab for the sake of productivity. "I do have something to discuss with you, though, Merlin," he said, frowning at his servant. Merlin had darted towards the door as soon as Arthur was dressed, getting out of range in case Arthur decided to hit him.

"Oh?" Merlin asked, turning back towards Arthur. The prince was annoyed to note that Merlin was still standing awfully close to the door, and looked far too prepared to bolt.

"I'm not going to bite, Merlin," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "I wanted to talk to you about your magic."

Merlin ducked his head. "What about it?" he asked. His eyes shifted to a spot behind Arthur's shoulder as he said, "Like you said, we weren't in Camelot when I used it, so it wasn't illegal there."

"Merlin," Arthur said, then took a deep breath. He forced himself to be patient. "I am not angry with you for having magic. I know that you are loyal to Camelot and would never do anything to harm me or my father."

Merlin nodded, still not looking at Arthur. It hurt the prince to see his closest friend show such him such lack of trust, but he did his best to ignore it. There would be years in which to build their friendship back up. Right, now, he had to focus on more important matters so that those years could actually occur.

"Right then," he said. "I also wanted to ask you about the Lady Morgause. Something seemed a bit off about her. What did you think?"

"You're actually asking for my opinion?" Merlin asked, raising his eyebrows. At Arthur's nod, he continued. "I thought she seemed pretty suspicious as well. She seemed very focused on Morgana." Arthur hummed in agreement. He had noticed the same thing.

"Can you watch her while she's here, and tell me what she gets up to?" he asked. Merlin's answer did not help his worry.

"Actually, I ran into Gwen on my way here this morning," Merlin said. "From what she heard from Morgana, Morgause left last night. She got called away on urgent business."

This got Arthur's attention. She must not have come back after he saw her leave the previous night. Somehow, this worried Arthur even more than if she had stuck around. There could be no question that she was planning something. "Well," he said, glancing out his window at the people of Camelot going about their lives below. "If you see her return, let me know."

Merlin ducked his head in acquiescence. He fidgeted near the door. "Is that all?" he asked. Arthur grinned, a light of mischief entering his eyes.

"I'm glad we've had this talk, Merlin. However, since you _are_ still my servant, I need you to polish my armor, feed my horses, walk my dogs, and muck out my stables. So yes, that's all I wanted to talk to you about, but it is certainly not _all_." As Merlin turned to leave, he tacked on, "And no using magic to complete your chores, Merlin!"

With the conversation with Merlin out of the way, Arthur decided to go see Morgana. Maybe she could tell him a bit more about Morgause, if she had seen the witch before she left.

On reaching her room, he hesitated. It would be difficult to talk to her without seeing madness in her eyes, even if it was not yet there. Finally, after a passing servant had given him a strange look for standing around aimlessly in from of Morgana's door, he knocked.

"Come in," her voice came from behind the door, happy and kind as he remembered she had once been. He entered and stopped right inside the room. Morgana sat in front of her mirror, running a brush through her hair. A strange, thick bracelet sat upon her wrist, but Arthur paid it little heed. His half-sister looked so peaceful. She wore a dress of rich violets and dark blue, and her hair was sleek and shiny, not knotted and tangled as it would be when she went mad. Though he had just spent days in close quarters with her, she had been in simple clothes, happy, using a sword instead of magic to fight and blending in surprisingly well with the simple folk of Ealdor.

Now, she reminded him of the queen she had been for a time, the woman who had broken their father's spirit.

She looked up from her mirror and stood. "Arthur," she said, surprise in her eyes. "I thought you were Gwen."

The two siblings stared at each other for an uncomfortable moment, before Arthur cleared his throat. "Right," he said, uncertain suddenly of why he had come. "Merlin tells me that the Lady Morgause left last night, and you were the last to see her off."

Morgana raised her eyebrows, but she answered. "I was."

Casting about for a subject to ease his discomfort, Arthur's eyes alighted on the bracelet he had noticed earlier. "That's an interesting bracelet," he said. "Is it new?"

The subject caught Morgana's attention, and she stared at it as she answered. "It is." Her voice took on an odd, wistful tone. "Morgause gave it to me before she left, to help me sleep. It worked, too. I had the best sleep I've had in ages, last night. I feel like all my troubles have finally left."

Arthur was struck by an urge to grab the bracelet and chuck it into the nearest blacksmith's fire. "Right." He felt trapped, suddenly, and wanted to leave. This was _not_ the Morgana who had tried so many times to destroy Camelot, but she was already accepting gifts Morgause. "I'm glad you are doing well, then. I've, um, got something I've got to be seeing to now," he said. He nearly fled the room, uncertain now why he had even gone there in the first place.

Of course, Morgana would not be Morgana if she did not decide to say something to make everything worse. "I had been worried when you were ignoring me, Arthur," she called after his retreating figure. "I'm glad to know I can still fluster you!" There was far too much teasing in her voice, and Arthur forced himself to keep walking. No good would come of going down _that_ road. He chose not to think of the days when Morgana had flustered him for romantic reasons.

* * *

Upon leaving Arthur's room, Merlin took a detour to the armory via the Great Dragon's prison. Though he had forgotten all about it when his mother was in danger, the magical signal from the previous week now rested heavily on his mind. The dragon lay on the large rock near the tunnel when Merlin reached the cavern, as though it were waiting for him.

"Hello, young Warlock," the dragon said in its resonant voice. "I thought I might see you here soon."

Merlin watched the dragon suspiciously. "And why is that?" he asked.

The dragon matched Merlin's stare easily. "There are strange matters at hand, and Camelot lies on a turning point in history," the creature said. Merlin frowned as the dragon shifted, seemingly uncharacteristically uncertain.

"What turning point?" he asked. "Is there a new threat to Arthur?"

"The answer, young Warlock, depends," the dragon said, cryptic as always. His next words, however, were blunt and surprising. "I will tell you everything you need to know, on one condition." At Merlin's prompting, the dragon continued. "You must swear to set me free."

Merlin gaped. "I can't do that!" he said. "Arthur will kill me, and he's only just begun to possibly accept me!" He waved his torch around for emphasis and nearly set his sleeve on fire. The dragon merely watched his rant impassively.

"Be that as it may, Merlin," the dragon said, using his name for once, "that is my term for assisting you further. You have done much already, but if you do not agree to free me from my cage, then you must do the rest on your own."

Merlin glared, and then turned his head away in defeat. "I cannot make such a promise," he said. "If you will not help me any further, than I will continue to serve Arthur to the best of my ability without your aid."

"Very well, then," the dragon said. "You have made your choice. Merlin watched as the dragon flew up out of sight. He remained standing on the little ledge by the tunnel for several moments, wondering if he had made the right choice, before he turned and walked back.

"Well thanks for nothing, then," he said over his shoulder. A huff of air far out of sight was the only response he got, though somehow the dragon still managed to make that reply sound annoyed. 'I'll just have to trust that Arthur meant what he said,' Merlin thought. The prince may have been almost a friend, but Uther's views had shaped Arthur's life for too many years for things to be too easy.

In spite of his attempts to reassure himself, Merlin still could not quite get the image of a man getting his head chopped off while Arthur watched on, the first thing he had seen in Camelot, out of his mind.

* * *

When Arthur was several corridors away from Morgana's room, he was waylaid by a young servant whose name he could not remember. "The king requests your presence in the council hall, your Highness," the boy said, bowing low.

"Thanks," Arthur said, rolling his eyes as the servant bowed again and scurried off. Even aside from the magic, he really was quite lucky to have Merlin in his life.

Uther, as it turned out, simply wanted to discuss the workings of the realm with Arthur and several of the other high ranking nobles. The rest of the day passed slowly; Arthur mainly remembered the drone of his father's voice and the gleam of sunlight creeping along the plain stone walls, but if you asked him the details of the meeting, he would not be able to say. There were no foreign kings seeking to overtake Uther, and Morgana still lived happily in Camelot. Peace was a strange thing.

The next few weeks passed in a similar fashion. Councils were held, taxes were collected, and reports of the harvests in the outlying villages were read. When it became too much, Arthur had Merlin saddle the horses, and they went out hunting.

On one hunting trip near the beginning of the week, they had a bit of an adventure when Arthur saw a unicorn. He was following a deer when he came across the creature in a small clearing in the woods that felt somehow older and deeper than other parts of the forest. Recalling his last encounter with the noble creatures, he let it alone. He also took note, this time, of Merlin's reaction. The young man gazed at the unicorn in wonder until Arthur practically dragged him away, and Arthur was left wondering once more at the sort of person Merlin was. Even with the knowledge of Merlin's magic, the servant was still a mystery in many ways.

Arthur also watched Morgana and took numerous unnecessary detours about the castle to bump into Gwen. These activities both livened his days, though the way that Guinevere always curtsied to him and never quite spoke her mind frustrated him.

Throughout this all, Morgause failed to turn up again, leaving Arthur on edge.

Finally, at the end of the second week, things began to pick up when Uther summoned him into the throne room.

"Arthur," the king said, his voice stern in the way that only sorcerers and witches could make it, "Sir Bedivere has brought news of a sorcerer in the lower town, using a blacksmith to make weapons. I want you to gather some knights and go with him to arrest this sorcerer and bring him to me."

Arthur bowed to his father and left to do as he was bid. 'Perhaps,' he thought, 'Morgause is finally making her bid, whatever that may be.'

* * *

Down in the lower town, night was falling quickly, bringing with it colder weather. While Arthur was busy listening to news of the kingdom, keeping tabs on Morgana, and finding excuses to run into Gwen, the citizens of the city prepared for winter.

In a blacksmith's forge tucked between a seamstress's shop and a butcher, however, a glowing fire kept the room almost too warm. Guinevere's father, Tom, was just putting the finishing touches on a new helm before heading home to his daughter for the night. She had just returned home a few days ago from some strange quest with the Lady Morgana, and he had been trying to spend as much time as he could with her. The helm was for Sir Leon, however, who had irreparably dented his old one when it was knocked off in a skirmish with bandits on the northern borders of the kingdom, and so he had taken extra time away from Gwen that night to finish it. The sun had already fallen well below the horizon by the time Tom deemed his work good enough. He had just finished when there came a knock at his open door. Turning, he saw a strange man entering his forge.

"May I help you?" Tom asked.

The man looked around the forge, inspecting a shield that lay on a far table waiting to be repaired before turning to the helm that still lay before Tom, still shining from newness. "I have heard that you are the best blacksmith Camelot has to offer," the man said, his accent marking him as clearly a foreigner.

"I am good at what I do," Tom said, trying not to let his excitement show.

"And what is it that you do?" the man asked, rather arrogantly, in Tom's opinion. Still, if the man wanted to buy his services, then he would be polite. A few more customers this week might just get him enough money to buy that new dress that his Gwen had been eying in the market before her jaunt with Merlin the previous week.

"I mostly do repair work for the king's best knights," Tom replied. "I make a lot of their weapons, as well, and not the blunt and boring ones they use in practice, but the ones they use in tournaments and proper fighting." A note of pride entered Tom's voice. There was good reason that the man had heard that Tom was the best.

The man nodded, apparently satisfied. "I have a rather… unusual request," he said, and brought a roll of parchment out of an inner pocket in his vest. Laying it on an unused portion of table, he unrolled it to reveal a strange design. "Can you make a mould for this?" he asked. "It will be filled with lead when it is finished, so it must be made strong."

Tom glanced over the design. "Did you make this yourself?" he asked, intrigued by the strange pattern.

"I designed it for a friend," the man said, his tone cold. "If you make this quickly, I will pay you in gold."

The new helm clattered to the ground, picking up dust that marred its lovely shine, as Tom accidentally knocked it off the table while spinning to look at the stranger. "Gold is more than I usually charge," he said, wondering if perhaps he should just shut up and take this man's money. It would not be his fault if the man turned out to be some idiot noble without a clue as to the real value of anything. The man's clothes were plain, but he could have borrowed them for his journey from whatever lands he called home.

"Make this as quickly as you can," the man said, his tone perfectly serious, "and I will pay you in gold regardless of your usual prices."

Giving up on convincing the man to pay less, Tom bent over the parchment once more, studying it. "I can have it done within the week, sir," he said.

The man straightened. "Good," he said, before turning to leave. "I'll be back in one week, then." He headed for the door, but Tom halted him with a question.

"Wait," Tom said. "What's your name?"

Turning back briefly to Tom, the man considered him for a moment before speaking one word. "Tauron." Tom blinked, and the man was gone.

* * *

Arthur gathered together several of his best knights and allowed Sir Bedivere to lead the way to the blacksmith's forge where the sorcerer had been spotted the week before. As he passed through the corridors, he spotted Merlin and dragged the sorcerer along. If they were going to catch a sorcerer, he wanted to have a sorcerer on his side, too. If this matter involved Morgause, then he definitely wanted Merlin to be there with him.

The lower town was dark, with windows shuttered against the cold. Most people were inside; those who had braved the growing cold for some reason or another quickly moved out of the way when they saw the Camelot knights striding by in their bright mail and crimson cloaks. The warmth and voices indoors hardly seemed to penetrate into the streets, and the sound of the knights' boots on the dirt roads was unnaturally loud in Arthur's ears. This would be his first encounter with a sorcerer since he learned that another sorcerer had been the one to keep him alive against magic for all the battles he had thought he won. This would also, possibly, be his first encounter in this new time with the woman who had stolen his sister away. It was all enough to keep his mind occupied with thoughts, so that he did not notice where Sir Bedivere was leading the men until it was too late.

The knights burst into the forge with yells and a clashing of swords and metal. They swept half-finished swords and bits of armor off of shelves with little regard to the blacksmith's livelihood; with a shock of horror, Arthur realized that he recognized the blacksmith. As the man yelled and the sorcerer (of course!) managed to escape in the confusion caused by the knights, Arthur recognized Guinevere's father, being subdued by Sirs Bertrand and Marhaus.

"He can't be guilty!" Merlin said by his side, just as shocked. "Arthur, you have to tell your men that they've got the wrong person!"

Trying to do just that, Arthur broke through his men and held up a hand to Bertrand, who had just knocked Tom to the floor. "Hold on," he said, using his most kingly voice. "This man is not a sorcerer, surely?" Bedivere stepped forwards.

"He was consorting with a sorcerer, sire," the knight said. "He was making weapons for a man named Tauron, who is known to be working against your father."

"Did you know?" Arthur asked Tom. The man shook his head, and Arthur could easily tell that the horror and fear in his eyes was genuine. Even if it had not been, he could not imagine letting Guinevere's father be arrested. Though Arthur had not paid much attention to Gwen before her father's death, he finally realized something that had been nagging at him for a while. Guinevere was far happier when he made excuses to talk to her than he remembered her being when he first started getting to know her. It did not take a great leap to realize that her father may well have been the cause.

Sir Marhaus picked something up from the dusty ground where Tom had dropped it. "Sire, he had this on him," Marhaus said, showing the object to Arthur. It was a small pouch of gold.

"Still," Arthur said, "we cannot arrest a man for being paid for his work."

"Paid in gold, Sire?" Marhaus asked, clearly disbelieving.

Bedivere stepped in then, making Arthur want to strangle him. "Sire, whether or not he was consorting knowingly, he was still working for a sorcerer, and by the law that makes him guilty of treason. We are obligated to take him to your father for judgment."

In spite of Arthur's further attempts at reason, the knights dragged Tom up to the castle. Arthur glowered the whole way back through town. He was going to have words with his father. When they reached the castle, he dismissed a worried looking Merlin with a few curt words, and then stalked to the throne room behind the knights.

Of course, his father did not even wait to hear what Arthur might have to say. Several knights were sent out immediately to track down Tauron if they could, and Tom was dragged to the dungeons with a death sentence before Arthur could get a word in edgewise.

"You are wrong, you know," Arthur said quietly. Uther turned to him in surprise.

"Wrong about what?" the king asked.

"Tom is not a guilty man. He knew not what he was doing, and even if he did, he might have been coerced. Sorcerers can enchant mightier men than simple blacksmiths, as you know well." Arthur stared at his father. He had made peace with the fact that his views and his father's were different, but he would not allow this injustice to occur no matter how much he valued the old man.

The doors to the throne room burst open as Uther opened his mouth to respond, and Morgana stormed in.

"Is it true?" she asked, anger evident in her voice. "Have you arrested Gwen's father?"

Uther turned to his ward and spoke sternly. "He was consorting with a sorcerer, Morgana, and that means he is a traitor."

Morgana laughed. "Please! Gwen's father is no more a traitor than I am!" she cried, and Arthur winced. That statement did not speak well of Tom, in his opinion. "Tell him he's made a mistake, Arthur," she said, turning on her brother.

Arthur swallowed and straightened to his full height. "That is what I have been trying to tell him, Morgana," he said. He addressed his next words to his father. "You are making a mistake in sentencing Tom. Magic can be used for evil, certainly, but that does not mean that everyone who associates with it accidentally is also guilty of evil."

Unfortunately, Uther failed to agree. "I will not be ganged up on by my son and my ward," he said, a note of danger entering his voice.

"Then maybe you should show some sense and release Tom!" Morgana cried, inciting Uther into a rage of his own.

"You will go to your room, both of you." He glared at Arthur and Morgana, and the latter glared right back.

"If this is how you treat your citizens, it's little wonder that they use their abilities to fight you."

Arthur choked as Morgana spat her last retort at the king before whirling about and stalking from the room, ignoring Uther's furious commands that she remain in her room until she could learn to behave herself and respect her king. Arthur also ignored his father and ran after her.

"Morgana," he said, catching up to her two corridors away, next to a tapestry of one of Camelot's few female rulers engaged in battle with a dragon. She whirled around to face him, and he bit back his fear at the anger in her eyes. For the first time, he began to feel as though he might understand what had driven her to become the witch that terrorized Camelot's future.

"What?" she bit out, and Arthur breathed deep to calm himself before answering.

"Though I don't disagree with what you told my father," he said, taking Morgana by surprise, "the way you said it is unlikely to make him listen. Father has always been set in his ways, and you will not change his mind by yelling." Morgana glared, clearly about to argue, but Arthur raised a palm to stop her. "I did not say you should give up. I do not intend to let Tom be executed."

Morgana gave him the same searching look she had used in the woods after Ealdor, when she questioned him about the magic that had saved Merlin's village. Finally, her shoulders slumped and she nodded. "You are right about Uther," she said, anger still lacing her voice as she spoke the king's name. "I will keep that in mind next time he decides an innocent man deserves to die." The bitterness on her voice struck Arthur.

"I swear to you, Morgana, that Tom will be safe," he said, unusually gentle. "Let me walk you to your room, and then I will make sure that Tom sees true justice, not the fate my father has decreed."

The two set off, side by side, back down the corridors. Morgana did not speak again, and Arthur used the silence to wonder again at how much of her descent into cruelty and madness had been motivated by the compassion and her fear. When they reached her room, she turned to him before entering.

"Thank you for walking with me," she said. He inclined his head.

"I did not want you to go to sleep tonight in a rage," he said, only partially lying. "You have been doing so much better lately since your nightmares ceased. It would be a pity if Uther's actions brought them back."

"Well then," she said, "I should thank you even more for that. You know, Arthur, if you don't watch out, you may yet reach a point where that servant of yours will no longer be able to call you a prat."

She disappeared in to her room after that, and Arthur turned towards Gaius's chambers. His promise had not just been made to placate Morgana. He fully intended to get Tom out of prison, and there was no better way to break out of jail than with the help of sorcery, if his memories of the future were anything to go by. He ascended several staircases until he reached the highest tower in the west wing of the castle, where Gaius and Merlin lived.

On entering the room, it took him a few short seconds to locate Merlin, who was exiting from his small room at the back of the physician's quarters.

"Merlin," he said sharply. The man in question turned, seeming surprised to see the prince.

"What do you want, Arthur?" Merlin asked, but Arthur was already speaking.

"I want you to save Guinevere's father," he said, ignoring the shock on his manservant's face. "I know you can do something for him, and I won't have him executed. He didn't know what he was doing, and anyway, my father is wrong about magic. Help him, Merlin." At his sorcerer servant's continued silence, he tacked on a curt, "Please."

"Just so I've got this right," Merlin said in a whisper, "you want me to use my magic to save Gwen's father?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, _Mer_lin, that's what I said. And why are you whispering. Unless I'm very much mistaken, I'd be willing to bet that Gaius already knows about your little hidden talent."

Merlin pointed at the bed in his room, beyond the door he had just exited. "Gaius knows, but I don't think he would approve of what you're asking. Luckily, he's out getting some water to make Gwen a soothing tea. Who, by the way, happens to be sleeping in my room, and she does_ not_ know_._"

The words, "sleeping in my room," overrode the rest of Arthur's concerns. "What do you _mean_, she's sleeping in your room?" he asked dangerously. He stamped down ruthlessly on the hurt he felt. Surely Guinevere and Merlin were not romantically involved? He glared over Merlin's shoulder, just able to make out Gwen's prone form upon Merlin's tiny bed, now that he looked for her.

"I mean she was exhausted after crying about her father's arrest, so I offered to let her use my bed so that she can be near friends," Merlin said, confused at Arthur's tone.

"Right, of course," Arthur said, toning down his volume to let Gwen sleep. Of course the two weren't together. His Gwen would have told him if something like that had ever occurred.

"Anyways," Merlin continued, still looking at Arthur strangely, "I would love to help Tom, but wouldn't it be better for him if you convinced Uther to let him go? Escaping with the help of magic will hardly make him seem innocent."

"Unfortunately, I'm not sure my father can be convinced to change his mind before Tom is executed." Arthur grimaced as he spoke. He loved his father, but protecting his people was more important than family loyalty. He had learned that lesson with his father's ghost and Morgana's schemes.

"What am I supposed to do once I've freed Tom?" Merlin asked. "He can't just go back to his work."

"Take him to Ealdor," Arthur said, not realizing till the words were out of his mouth how perfect it would be as a place of refuge. "As my father said when your mother came to him for help, we cannot send knights to Ealdor without risking war with Cenred. If you can take Tom to Ealdor, I can distract the guards from sounding the alarm long enough for the two of you to get out of the city."

"You will make a great king one day, Arthur," Merlin said, looking at the prince with suspiciously shiny eyes in spite of the smile on his face. "I'll help you."

The two men exited Gaius's chambers, and Arthur ran right into Morgana coming up the corridor.

"What are you doing, Morgana?" Arthur asked, extricating himself from his sister.

"I've come to check on my maid, and I thought she might be visiting her friend," Morgana said, looking at Merlin. "How is she?"

"She's doing alright. She's sleeping now." Merlin pointed back towards his room. "You can go check on her, if you would like."

Morgana avoided both men's eyes as she spoke. "That's alright. I am glad to hear that she is doing well, but I have a task of my own to take care of. I will be back later."

A sudden suspicion entered Arthur's mind. "Morgana," he said, his tone clearly indicating that he was on to her. "If you remember the promise I made earlier, I really think it would be best for you to check on Gwen right now. Uther is already angry with you, and it would be best if you were otherwise occupied for the night."

Merlin groaned. "Yes, Arthur, just tell everyone what we're up to, why don't you? It's not like you're the one who'll get his head cut off if we're caught," the servant muttered. Morgana looked between them, and finally smiled.

"Don't worry, Merlin," she said, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "I won't tell anyone that you and Arthur are sneaking off to a tavern on the other side of town."

Arthur smiled back at her in thanks, and she slipped in to Gaius's rooms.

"Does she know as well?" Merlin asked, suspicion heavy in his voice.

"She doesn't know your secret," Arthur said, "but she knows we're breaking out Gwen's father. We should get going. You're not going to get Tom free by standing around all night."

The two set off, through the maze of corridors that made up the castle. At the stairs leading to the dungeons, Arthur halted. "I should disable the warning bells," he said, knowing well how difficult it was to get away once those began to toll. He pressed a key into Merlin's hand. "This will open the cells. I trust you can take care of the guards _without_ hurting them. I'll meet you by the grate where I helped Mordred escape in a few minutes." The thought of the knight who had killed him made Arthur shudder, but Merlin did not notice in the dark.

"Right," the sorcerer said, swallowing. "I'll see you in a few minutes." They parted ways, and Arthur ran as silently as he could to the warning bells, which were activated from a small, hidden room down a side corridor on the ground floor.

It took two minutes to disable the bells by cutting the rope that held together the pulley system that rang the network of bells placed throughout the castle towers. As he did so, Arthur reflected that it was a wonder no one else had ever broken the system before. It had given him both grief and aid, and he was not sure which was stronger. He made a note to keep the matter in mind, and left the castle, warning bells effectively silenced.

He ducked and weaved his way through the castle and the town then, to the exit of the tunnel Merlin was hopefully travelling through with Tom. His armor shone in the moonlight, and he cursed himself for forgetting to bring a dark cloak to hide himself. Luckily, he made it to the grate by the forest without being spotted, however. He only had to wait a matter of minutes after that before Merlin appeared, with Tom behind him.

The grate had been replaced improperly after Mordred's escape, and Arthur was able to pry it open without too much trouble. Merlin scrambled out first, and Arthur reached down a hand to help Tom out onto the grass.

"Can I not say goodbye to my daughter?" he asked, staring mournfully at Arthur.

Arthur's heart broke for Gwen and her father, but he kept his voice level. "I'm sorry, Tom. I will continue doing what I can to get your name cleared with my father, but until then you are not safe in Camelot. Speaking to Gwen would only put her in danger at this point." He looked Tom in the eyes, and continued. "I promise you, though, when I am king, you will be allowed wherever you want in Camelot as a free man."

Tom clasped Arthur hand, bowing his head. "Thank you Sire, for your help," he said. "Look after my Gwen."

"I will," Arthur said, meaning every word. "Now, go. I have done what I could to give you time, but you should still go quickly. The knights will have horses if they follow you, so you'll need as much head start as you can get."

Merlin and Tom moved off to the forest, then, but Merlin turned one last time to Arthur before they disappeared. "I'll see you in a few days," he said. "Try not to get yourself killed without me in that time."

Arthur nodded to Merlin, and the manservant and the fugitive vanished from sight in the shadows of the trees.


End file.
